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OLIYER  CROMWELL. 


HIS  LIFE,  TIMES,  BATTLEFIELDS, 
AND   OONTEMP  on  ABIES. 


BY 

PAXTON    HOOD, 

AUTHOR  OF   "CHRISTMAS  EVANS,"    "THOMAS  CARLYLE,"   "ROMANCE  OT 
BIOGBAPHY,"  ETC.,   ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 

FUNK    &    WAGNALLS, 

10  &  13  Dey  Street. 
1883. 


PA 


TO 

MRS.    ABEL    IIEYWOOD, 

BO\yD ox,    VHESHIRE, 

TO  WHOSE  GENEROUS  SYMPATHY  WITH  THE  CHARACTEB  ANT)  CAREER  OT 

CROMWELL 
THE    CITY    OF    MANCHESTER    IS    INDEBTED 

FOR   THE 

NOBLE     MONUMENT 

WHICH 

HONORS     THE     GREAT     PROTECTOR'S     MEMORY 

ON   ONE   OF  ITS   MOST   PUBLIC   HIGHWAYS, 

THIS   VOLUME    IS    INSCRIBED    BY    ITS    AUTHOR, 

WITH    EVERY    SENTIMENT    OF 

PLEASANT   RECOLLECTION    OF  HERSELF,   AND   ADMIRATION 

FOR  HER  EFFORT  TO   PERPETUATE 

THE    NAME    SO     DEAR     TO    ENGLISH    HEARTS. 


95677S 


PREFACE. 


It  is  only  necessary,  in  introducing  this  work,  to 
inform  the  reader  as  to  the  intentions  of  the  Anthor  in 
writing  it,  and  that  which  will  be  found  in  the  course  of 
its  perusal.  It  is,  then,  simply  true  that,  so  far  as  I  am 
aware,  there  is  no  popular  and  portable  volume  like  that 
which  I  now  present.  Far  more  eloquent  pages  have 
been  written  vindicating  the  great  Protector  and  his 
work — far  more  archi:eological  pages  the  result  of  pains- 
taking researches  into  the  unexplored  recesses  and 
hiding-places  of  old  documents.  The  Lives  of  Crom- 
well, it  would  not  be  profitable  to  enumerate  on  this 
page — large  and  small,  good,  bad,  and  indifferent.  Of 
these,  I  believe  I  have  seen  the  greater  number,  but  I 
have  not  seen  one  which  answers  the  end  proposed  by 
this  volume — that  is,  to  set  forth  in  a  compendious  man- 
ner, accessible  to  any  person  not  possessed  of  too  much 
time  for  wading  through  many  or  large  volumes,  the 
great  Protector's  claims.  If  I  am  told  that  this  is  a 
needless  work  to  attempt  after  the  noble  epic  of  Carlyle, 
I  may  be  permitted  to  say  that  my  slight  volume  may 
serve  to  whet  the  appetite  for  the  patient  study  of  the 
lines  of  that  great  runic  Saga  or  song. 

Further,  I  have  attempted,  which  no  slight  compre- 
hensive biography  has  done  before,  to  set  fortli  some 
account  of  those  great  contemporaries  of  Cromwell, 
some  knowledge  of  whose  lives  is  necessary,  as  their 
names  must  inevitably  appear  in  connection  with  hie. 


VI  PREFACE. 

and  who  therefore  at  once  ilkistrate  the  great  hero's 
work,  while  their  works  also  receive  illustration  from 
his  character  and  career.  I  would  not  have  the  reader 
expect  too  much  ;  but  if  he  appreciate  this  volume  ac- 
cording to  its  Author's  intention,  it  will  be  found  to  be, 
he  trusts,  neither  uninteresting  nor  unuseful.  Always 
let  it  be  remembered  that,  boastful  as  this  age  is  of  its 
attainments  in  freedom  of  thought  and  libei'ty  of  con- 
science, even  the  most  prominent  agitators  for  such 
claims  in  our  day  have  from  Oliver  Cromwell  much  yet 

to  learn. 

PAXTON  HOOD. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I.  PAGE 

Inteoductory.— Conflicting  Theories  of  Ceomwell's  Life,    .        9 

CHAPTER  II. 

Ancestry,  Family,  and  Early  Days, 25 

CHAPTER  III. 
Episode. — Contempoeaeies  :   Sie  John  Eliot 49 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Ceomwell,   "The  Lord  of  the  Fens,"  and  First  Appeaeattce 

IN  Paeliament, 78 

CHAPTER  V. 
Episode. — Contempoeaeies  :   John  Pym, 91 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Teaining  of  the  Ieonsides,         .         .         .        ...       95 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Episode. — Contemporaries  :   John  Hampden,      ....     106 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Battle  of  Marston  Moor, 113 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Episode. — Contemporaries  :   Prince  Eupert,     ....     128 

CHAPTER  X. 
Thb  Battlb  of  Naseby 13g 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI.  PAGE 

Ckomwell  in  Ireland, 141 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Battle  of  Dunbab 146 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Cbomwell  at  Wobcestek,  and  the  Romance  of  Boscobel,       .     164 

CHAPTER  XJV. 

CEOJrWELL   THE    USUEPEB, 175 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Ceomwell  the  Pkotectoe,  ........     186 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
FoEEiGN  Policy  and  Powee  of  Ceomwell,         ....     202 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  Last  Days  of  Ceomwell, 219 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
EprLOGUE.  — CoNTEMPOEAEiES  :   SiB  Haeey  Vane,  .         .         .     230 


APPENDIX. 

I.  The  Faemer  of  St.  Ives,      .        , 261 

It    The  Battle  of  Dunbae, 264 

III.  The  Maetyedom  of  Vane, 268 

Jnde?, ,        ,  073 


INTRODITCTORY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CONFLICTING    THEORIES    OF    CROMWELl's    LIFE. 

In  one  of  those  stately  old  folio  histories  in  which  our  fore- 
fathers wrote  the  chronicles  of  England  more  than  a  century 
since,  it  was  the  wont  of  our  dear  old  nurse,  who  supplied  the 
place  of  a  mother  to  us,  to  permit  us  to  look,  when  the  rare 
occasion  came  round  on  which  we  were  rewarded  because  we 
had  behaved  somewhat  better  than  usual.  But  well  do  we  re- 
member, as  we  looked  at  the  full-length  portraits  of  the  kings, 
and  from  these  full-length  portraits  derived  sometimes  a  better 
idea  of  the  men  than  from  the  pages  of  the  letterpress — mid- 
way through  the  book  we  came  to  a  portrait  that  puzzled  us  : 
it  stood  opposite  the  page  headed,  "  Interregnum — Common- 
wealth." Yes,  there  stood  a  rough,  robust  being,  without  a 
crown,  and  yet  with  a  most  ominous  hat  upon  his  head,  a 
broad-brimmed  and  steeple-crowned  hat,  like  that  we  had  seen 
on  the  heads  of  witches  :  and  we  could  not  but  say  to  our  old 
nurse,  "  What  does  he  here  ?"  Our  old  nurse  was  a  woman, 
therefore  a  Royalist  and  Conservative.  Moreover,  she  was 
very  old,  and  her  memory  touched  the  generation  which  had 
heard  Cromwell  talked  about.  From  her  we  gathered  that  the 
reason  why  this  broad- hatted  person  stood  there,  was  because 
he  was  a  very  badly-behaved  character,  and  would  on  no  ac- 
count be  induced  to  take  his  Ijat  off,  even  before  his  king. 
We  tried  to  make  it  out  ;  the  story  was  very  dark  to  us.  But 
the  son  of  our  nurse  was  a  very  fine  and  thoughtful  man  ;  and 
when  to  him  we  used  to  say,  ' '  Why  does  he  stand  there  with 


10  OLIVER   CEOMWELL. 

only  a  hat  on  ?  Why  has  everybody  else  a  crown,  and  he  no 
crown  ?"  then  he  would  tell  us  that  he  believed  that  there  was 
more  in  his  head  beneath  a  hat  than  in  those  of  any  of  the 
other  kings  who  wore  a  crown,  and  that  he  was  more  king-like 
than  all  the  kings.  Thus  our  historical  apprehensions  were  con- 
fused— as  many  wiser  heads  have  been — at  the  commencement 
of  our  studies  ;  and  even  from  our  very  earliest  days  we  stum- 
bled, and  became  perplexed,  over  the  two  theories  of  Crom- 
well's character. 

For  it  may  be,  perhaps,  asserted,  that  the  variety  of  opinion 
with  reference  to  the  character  of  Cromwell  is  almost  as  diver- 
sified as  ever,  although  the  collection  of  his  letters  and  speeches 
by  Thomas  Carlyle  has  done  so  much  to  set  him  forth  in  a  fair 
and  honorable  light,  for  which  even  those  most  enthusiastic  for 
the  career  he  represented  were  scarcely  prepared.  And  it  can- 
not be  doubted  that  the  estimate  of  his  character  will  always  be 
formed,  not  merely  from  sympathy  with  a  certain  set  of  opin- 
ions, but  even  more  from  that  strange,  occult,  ^nd  undefinable 
sentiment  "which,  arising  from  peculiarity  of  temperament,  be- 
comes the  creator  of  intellectual  and  even  moral  appreciation. 
Hence  there  are  those  to  whom,  whatever  may  be  the  amount 
of  evidence  for  his  purity,  Cromwell  can  only  be  hateful  ; 
while  there  are  others,  again,  to  whom,  even  if  certain  flaws  or 
faults  of  character  appear  in  him,  he  can  only  be  admirable. 
It  is  very  interesting  to  notice  the  varied  estimates  which  have 
been  formed  of  this  great  man,  even  within  the  present,  or 
within  this  and  the  immediately  preceding,  generation. 

Robert  Southey,  for  instance,  a  pleasant  and  venerable 
name  in  recent  English  letters,  wrote  a  life  of  Cromwell  to  sus- 
tain his  theory  of  the  great  Protector's  character.  To  him 
Cromwell  was  "  the  most  fortunate  and  least  flagitious  of 
usurpers  ;  he  gained  three  kingdoms,  the  price  which  he  paid 
for  them  was  innocence  and^ peace  of  mind.)  He  left  an  im- 
perishable name,  so  stained  with  reproach,  that  notwithstand- 
ing the  redeeming  virtues  which  adorned  him,  it  were  better 
for  him  to  be  forgotten  jthan  to  be  so  rememberedTknd  in  the 


CONFLICTING    THEORIES    OF    CROMWELL's    LIFE.  11 

world  to  come, —  but  it  is  not  for  ua  to  nnticipatc  the  judg- 
ments, still  less  to  limit  the  mercy,  of  the  All-merciful."  And 
then  he  continues,  "  Let  us  repeat  that  there  is  no  portion  of 
history  in  which  it  so  behoves  an  Englishman  to  be  thoroughly 
versed  as  in  that  of  Cromwell's  age."  He  says,  indeed,  that 
"  Cromwell's  good  sense  and  good  nature  would  have  led  him 
to  govern  equitably  and  mercifully,  to  promote  literature,  to 
cherish  the  arts,  and  to  pour  wine  and  oil  into  the  wounds  of 
the  nation  ;"  and  he  adds  that  "  the  dangers  to  which  he  was 
exposed  alone  prevented  him  from  carrying  out  all  his 
wishes.  "* /To  Soiithey,  Cromwell  was  hypocritical,  always 
looking  out  for  himself  ;  he  was  conscious  of  a  guilty  ambition, 
he  knew  that  he  was  doing  wrong  through  the  whole  process 
of  the  struggle.  He  felt  that  he  was  a  traitor,  he  knew  that 
monarchy,  aristocracy,  and  episcopacy  were  essential  to  the 
well-being  of  the  country  ;  he  overthrew  them,  and  yet  he 
sought  in  some  sense  to  retain  their  images,  although  he  had 
got  rid  of  the  things.  He  committed  a  great  crime,  he  attained 
to  the  possession  of  sovereign  power  by  means  little  less  guilty 
than  Macbetl£|  but  he  dared  not  take  the  crown,  and  he  dared 
not  confer  it  upon  the  young  Charles  Stuart,  because  he  knew 
the  young  man  would  never  forgive  his  father's  death,  and  if 
he  could  he  would  be  altogether  unworthy  to  wear  his  father's 
crown.  What  would  not  Cromwell  have  given,  says  Southey, 
whether  he  looked  to  this  world  or  the  next,  if  his  hands  had 
been  clean  of  the  king's  blood  !  Such,  in  brief,  was  the  por- 
trait it  pleased  Robert  Southey  to  portray — such  was  his  theory 
of  Cromwell's  life. 

Of  the  life  of  Cromwell  by  John  Porster  it  is  more  difficult 
to  speak.  He  never  withdrew  his  life  of  Cromwell,  never  for- 
mally announced  his  dissent  from  the  doctrine  and  theory  of 
Cromwell's  character  contained  in  his  "  Lives  of  the  Statesmen 
of  the  Commonwealth."  We  may  fairly  believe  that  this  doc- 
trine is  still  held  by  multitudes  whose  general  opinions  as  to  the 
Long  Parliament,  and  the  possibility  of  the  establishment  of  a 

*  Southey 's  "  Life  of  Cromwell, "  p.  77. 


12  OLIVEE   CROMWELL. 

republic,  are  m  unison  with  Mr.  Forster's.  ^W'lih  Robert 
Southey,  Cromwell  was  a  traitor  to  Charles  I.  ;  with  Mr.  Fors- 
ter,  in  his  "  Lives  of  the  Statesmen,"  he  was  a  traitor  to  the 
cause  of  civil  and  religious  Hberty.  Cromwell  commenced  his 
career  in  earnest  and  faithful  love  of  liberty,  certainly  with  a 
faithful  determination,  a  sense  of  righteousness  in  his  strong 
insubordination  against  tyranny.  He  was  a  man  of  singular 
intellect,  sincerely  religious,  but  his  religious  nature  was 
wrought  upon  by  a  temperament  almost  hypochondriacal.  His 
shrewdness  soon  enabled  him  to  see  the  probable  issues  of  the 
struo-ffle  ;  his  force  of  character  soon  elevated  him  to  be  the 
foremost  man  in  it.  Knowing,  perhaps,  nothing  of  Machia- 
velli,  he  became  far  greater  and  more  perfect  than  Machiavelli 
himself  as  a  deep  and  designing  deceiver,  full  of  contrivances. 
As  his  personal  ambition  grew  more  and  more  within  him,  he 
grasped  at  the  shadow  of  personal  authority  ;  but  as  he  did  so, 
and  seemed  to  become  possessed  of  the  power  at  which  he 
aimed,  the  means  of  government  eluded  him,  or  crumbled  in 
his  gra^sp,  and  difficulties  and  perplexities  accumulated  around 
him^lThe  doctrine  of  Mr.  Forster,  in  the  work  to  which  we 
refer,  appears  to  be  that!  Cromwell  was  not  so  much  untrue  to 
himself,  considering  the  complicated  weft  of  his  character,  as 
that  he  was  untrue  to  those  great  men,  his  friends,  with  whom 
he  had  wrought,  and  untrue  to  those  principles  for  which  he 
and  they  had  struggled.  He  lived  a  life  of  torment,  not  be- 
cause he  had  killed  the  king,  not  because  he  had  been  a  traitor 
to  the  royal  cause,  but.  because  he  had  been  a  traitor  to  his 
friends  and  principles^^The  day  of  death,  therefore,  to  Crom- 
well was,  not  less  than  his  great  days  at  Worcester  and  Dun- 
bar, "his  fortunate  day,"  because  it  released  his  entangled 
spirit  from  its  carge™  Such  was  Mr.  Forster's  Cromwell,  as 
portrayed  in  1840.      j 

Another,  and  a'^r  inferior  portrait,  was  attempted  some 
years  since  by  M.  Guizot,  the  ex-minister  of  France.  Judging 
from  that  great  historian's  lectures  on  the  Civilization  of 
Europe,  it  might  have  been  supposed  he  would  have  taken  a 


CONFLICTING   THEORIES   OF   CROMWELL's   LIFE.         13 

broad  and  eminently  satisfactory'  view  of  the  career  of  Crom- 
well. It  is,  in  fact,  the  least  satisfactory  ;  and  he  has  con- 
trived to  delineate  a  really  inferior  man,  a  great  man,  but  enam- 
ored of  the  world's  substantial  greatness.  The  business  of  his 
life  was  to  arrive  at  government  and  to  maintain  himself  in  it  ; 
and  all  who  threw  any  bar  or  hindrance  in  his  way  were  his 
enemies,  and  all  whom  he  could  use  to  that  end  were  his 
friends,  and  they  were  his  only  friends.  Hence,  to  substitute 
for  a  weak  House  of  Stuart  a  strong  House  of  Cromwell  was 
the  noblest  aim  of  the  Protectorate  ;  and  he  failed  because, 
says  M.  Guizot,  "  God  does  not  grant  to  the  great  men  who 
have  set  on  disorder  the  foundations  of  their  greatness,  the 
power  to  regulate  at  their  pleasure  and  for  centuries,  even  ac- 
cording to  their  better  desires,  the  government  of  nations." 
Guizot  does  not  refuse  to  pay  his  meed  of  homage  and  justice 
to  Cromwell  ;  but  he  seems  to  have  been  unable  to  conceive  a 
great  idea  of  the  Protector's  ends.  In  his  opinion  Cromwell 
was  thoroughly  conscious  of  the  weakness  by  which  he  was 
smitten  as  the  punishment  of  his  own  acts,  and,  feeling  about  in 
all  directions  for  some  prop  on  which  he  could  lean  for  sup- 
port, he  selected  liberty  of  conscience.  Resigning  the  name  of 
king,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  retain  kingly  authority.  He 
had  arrived  at  a  slippery  height,  on  which  to  stand  still  was 
impossible — there  was  no  alternative  but  to  mount  higher  or 
fall  ;  and  therefore  he  died  in  the  fulness  of  his  power,  though 
sorrowful — sorrowful  "  not  only  because  he  must  die,  but  also, 
and  above  all,  because  he  must  die  without  having  attained  his 
true  and  final  purpose."  It  is  impossible  not  to  perceive  that 
M.  Guizot  has,  in  his  theory  of  Cromwell's  character,  deline- 
ated the  Government,  weak  and  selfish,  of  Louis  Philippe,  of 
which,  in  its  fall,  he  was  the  minister.  Men  are  usually  un- 
able to  conceive  a  loftier  public  ideal  than  their  own  realiza- 
tion ;  and  such  is  the  Cromwell  of  Guizot. 

But  in  justice  to  Mr.  John  Forster,  it  must  be  said  that  he 
reviewed  in  a  very  able  paper,  entitled,  "  Cromwell,  and  the 
Civil  Wars  of  England,"  in  the  Edinburgh  Reviciv,  this  deline- 


14  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

ation  of  M.  Gulzot,  and  sufficiently  exhibited  the  unfaithfulness 
of  the  humiliating  portrait  ;  for  since  his  publication  of  the 
"  Lives  of  the  Statesmen"  had  appeared  the  great  collection 
and  commentary  of  Carlyle,  and  it  may  be  thought  that  this 
publication  sets  the  character  of  Cromwell  in  a  niche  of  honor- 
able security  and  rest  forever.  "  Suppose,"  said  Eliot  War- 
burton,  in  his  "  Rupert  and  the  Cavaliers,"  apologizing  for  the 
shameless  perfidy  revealed  in  the  letters  and  correspondence  of 
Charles  I. — "  suppose  all  the  letters  of  the  crafty  Cromwell  had 
been  discovered,  what  a  revelation  we  should  then  have  had  !" 
Well,  Cromwell's  letters  have  all  at  length  been  discovered  and 
bound  together,  and  their  publication  has  been  the  best  vindi- 
cation of  the  consistent^integrity  and  healthful  whole- hearted- 
ness  of  the  man.  According  to  Carlyle,  the  faith  of  Crom- 
well never  rested  on  any  doubtful  or  insecure  foundations. 
Whoever  else  might  forsake  him,  hope  and  faith  never  deserted 
him.  He  never  consented  to  take  part  in  any  public  affairs 
upon  any  compulsion  less  strong  than  that  of  conscience.  He 
was  guided  by  superior  instinct  and  the  practical  good  sense  of 
a  man  set  apart  by  God  to  govern.  He  had  no  premeditated 
plan  or  programme  to  which  to  conform.  On  the  other  hand, 
his  principles  were  never  to  seek.  He  saw  the  drift  of  circum- 
stances, but  he  was  nevertheless  to  guide  them,  to  use  and  con- 
trol them,  for  the  good  of  all.  He  had  no  personal  ambition  ; 
he  was  distracted  by  no  fear,  dazzled  by  no  honor.  Southey's 
Cromwell  was  full  of  penitence  for  his  treason  against  Charles. 
Forster's  was  full  of  penitence  for  his  treason  against  the  repub- 
lican cause.  Guizot's  Cromwell  was  full  of  sorrow  on  account 
of  his  failure  in  clutching  at  sovereignty  and  founding  a 
dynasty./  The  real  Cromwell,  according  to  Carlyle,  has  no 
penitence  of  any  kind,  no  sorrow,  save  for  the  sorrow  and  sin, 
the  sad  heirlooms  of  our  race.  He  was  the  great  champion  of 
the  Puritan  cause,  a  sworn  soldier  to  defend  the  rights  of  civil 
and  spiritual  freedom  ;  not  to  protect  the  interests  of  a  party, 
but,  so  far  as  he  could,  to  throw  a  shield  over  all  ;  having  only 
a  zeal  for  what  he  honestly  believed  to  be  God's  truth  ;  one  of 


COKFLICTIKG    THEOKIES    OF    CROMWELL'S   LIFE.  15 

those  rare  souls  who  could  lay  upon  itself  the  lowliest  and  the 
loftiest  duties  ;  a  dutiful  son  ;  for  a  large  part  of  his  life  a 
quiet  country  gentleman  ;  a  tender  husband,  a  tender  father  ;  a 
daring  political  leader  ;  a  great  soldier  ;  a  man  who  knew  men, 
and  who  could,  as  in  his  dealings  with  the  subtle  Mazarin, 
while  preserving  his  own  integrity,  twist  subtle  statesmen  to  his 
pleasure  ;  at  last  a  powerfid  sovereign,  so  living,  praying, 
dying  ;  no  hypocrite,  no  traitor,  buJLa  champion  and  martyr  of 
the  Protestant  and  Puritanical  faith.  /  Such  is  the  Cromwell  of 
Thomas  Carlyle,  and  such  the  Cromwell  of  the  following  pages.  \ 
But  thus  it  is  that  the  variety  of  opinion  as  to  the  character  \ 
and  motives  of  this  singular  man  seem  to  call  from  time  to  time 
for  such  resettings  as  may  enable  readers  to  obtain  and  form  a 
clear  idea  for  themselves  of  his  character. 

We  cannot  readily  find  the  instance  of  another  personage  in 
history  whose  acts  and  memory  have  been  the  subjects  of  such 
conflicting  theories  as  those  of  Cromwell.  The  unphilosophical 
and  paradoxical  verdict  of  Hume,  the  historian  of  England, 
that  he  was  a  fanatical  hypocrite,  may  now  be  dismissed  ;  we 
suppose  that  by  all  parties  it  is  dismissed,  with  the  contempt 
to  which  it  is  only  entitled,  to  the  limbo  to  which  it  properly 
belongs,  with  many  other  of  the  verdicts  this  writer  ventured 
to  announce  in  his  history.  Hume's  character  as  an  historian 
has  not  only  been  long  since  impeached,  but,  by  Mr.  Brodie,* 
reliance  upon  its  veracity  has  been  entirely  destroyed  ;  and 
even  the  Quarterly  Revietv  many  years  since  distinctly  showed 
in  how  many  instances  his  prejudices  have  permitted  him  to 
distort  evidence,  and  even  to  garble  documents.  And  it  was 
especially  the  case  when  writing  concerning  Charles  I.  and 
Cromwell,  that  "  he  drew  upon  his  imagination  for  his  facts, 
and  prejudices  for  his  principles. "  It  is  very  remarkable,  how- 
ever, that  men,  eminent  for  discrimination  and  judgment,  well 

*  "A  History  of  the  British  Empire  from  the  Accession  of  Charles 
I.  to  the  Restoration,  etc.,  etc.;  including  a  particular  examination 
of  Mr.  Hume's  statements  relative  to  the  character  of  the  English 
Government."    By  George  Brodie,  Esq.,  Advocate.     4  vols.,  1822. 


iG  OLIVER    GKOMWELL. 

read  in  the  story  of  the  times,  aad  in  the  interest  of  whose 
opinion  it  seemed  the  very  memory  of  such  a  man  as  Cromwell 
was  involved,  spoke  of  him  and  his  actions  with  a  kind  of  bated 
breath,  as  if  they  feared  to  incur  some  penalty  in  public  opinion 
by  too  laudatory  an  utterance  of  his  name.  We  think  of  such 
writers  as  William  Orme,  the  more  than  respectable  author  of 
the  Jives  of  John  Owen  and  Richard  Baxter  :  he  speaks  of 
Cromwell  as  one  of  whom  it  is  difficult  to  speak  with  candor 
and  justice.  He  says  that  if  "  to  unmingled  praise  he  is  by  no 
means  entitled,  unqualified  censure  is  equally  underserved  "  ; 
and  he  very  oddly  goes  on  to  remark,  that  "  he  did  much  to 
promote  the  glory  of  his  country  ;  and  if  not  a  religious  man 
himself,  he  yet  promoted  religion  in  others,  and  was  eminently 
the  friend  of  religious  liberty  at  home  and  abroad.  If  he  did 
not  always  act  as  he  ought,  it  can  scarcely  be  denied  that  few 
men  who  have  grasped  the  rod  of  power  have  used  it  with  so 
much  moderation,  and  so  generally  for  the  good  of  others,  as 
Oliver  Cromwell."  The  tone  of  Henry  Rogers,  in  his  life  of 
John  Howe,  is  precisely  the  same.  He  admits  that  "  Crom- 
well committed  crimes"  (!),  but  he  "  does  not  think  that  his 
fanaticism  actually  perverted  his  moral  judgment  "  (!),  al- 
though "  he  was  quite  conscious  that  they  were  crimes  which 
he  had  committed. "  ( !)  And  the  remarks  of  these  two  excel- 
lent writers  occur  in  their  attempts  to  solve  the  singular  mys- 
tery that  Cromwell  was  so  unquestionably  attached  to  men  so 
eminently  holy  as  John  Howe  and  John  Owen,  that  he  souglit 
their  friendship,  and  would  have  them  present  with  him  in  his 
palace. 

This  tone  of  remark  has  been  long  since  dropped  ;  and 
among  illustrious  English  writers,  it  is  singular,  perhaps,  that 
even  many  years  before  Carlyle's  magnificent  vindication, 
Macaulay  had,  in  his  own  eloquent  and  glowing  style,  as  dis- 
passionately as  heartily,  set  forth  the  character  of  the  great 
Protector  in  his  blaze  of  eloquent  language.  He  says  :  "  The 
ambition  of  Oliver  was  of  no  vulgar  kind.  He  never  seems  to 
have  coveted  despotic  power.     He,  at  first,  fought  sincerely 


CONFLICTING   THEORIES    OF    CROMWELL's    LIFE.  17 

and  manfully  for  the  Parliament,  and  never  deserted  it  till  it 
had  deserted  its  duty.  Bat  even  when  thus  placed  by  violence 
at  the  head  of  affairs,  he  did  not  assume  unlimited  power.  He 
gave  the  country  a  constitution  far  more  perfect  than  any  which 
had,  at  that  time,  been  known  to  the  world.  For  himself,  he 
demanded  indeed  the  first  place  in  the  Commonwealth,  but 
with  powers  scarcely  so  great  as  those  of  a  Dutch  stadtholder 
or  an  American  president.  lie  gave  to  Parliament  a  voice  in 
the  appointment  of  ministers,  and  left  it  to  the  whole  legislative 
authority,  not  even  reserving  to  himself  a  veto  on  its  enact- 
ments ;  and  he  did  not  require  that  the  chief  magistracy  should 
be  hereditary  in  his  family.  Thus  far,  if  the  circumstances  of 
the  time  and  the  opportunities  which  he  had  for  aggrandizing 
himself  be  fairly  considered,  he  will  not  lose  by  comparison 
with  Washington  and  Bolivar."  And  our  readers  surely  re- 
member what  ought  to  be  a  well-known  passage,  in  which  Ma- 
caulay  prophesies  that  "  truth  and  merit  concerning  Cromwell 
would  at  last  prevail  ;  cowards,  who  had  trembled  at  the  very 
sound  of  his  name — tools  of  office,  who  had  been  proud  of  the 
honor  of  lacqueying  his  coach,  might  insult  him  in  loyal 
speeches  and  addresses—  a  fickle  multitude  might  crowd  to  shout 
and  scoff  round  the  gibbeted  remains  of  the  greatest  prince  and 
soldier  of  the  age  ;  but  when  the  Dutch  cannon  startled  an 
effeminate  tyrant  in  his  own  palace — when  the  conquests  which 
had  been  won  by  the  armies  of  Cromwell  were  sold  to  pamper 
the  harlots  of  Charles — when  Englishmen  were  sent  to  figlit 
under  foreign  banners  against  the  independence  of  Europe  and 
the  Protestant  religion,  many  honest  hearts  swelled  in  secret  at 
the  thought  of  one  who  had  never  suffered  his  country  to  be 
ill-used  by  any  but  himself.  It  must  indeed  have  been  difficult 
for  any  Englishman  to  see  the  salaried  viceroy  of  France  saunter- 
ing through  his  harem,  yawning  and  talking  nonsense,  or  be- 
slobbering his  brother  and  his  courtiers  in  a  fit  of  maudlin 
affection,  without  a  respectful  and  tender  remembrance  of  him 
before  whose  genius  the  young  pride  of  Louis  and  the  veteran 
craft  of  Mazarin  had  stood  rebuked — who  had  humbled  Spaiq 


18  OLIVEE    CEOMWELL. 

on  the  land  and  Holland  on  the  sea,  and  whose  imperial  voice  had 
arrested  the  sails  of  the  Libyan  pirates  and  the  persecuting  fires 
of  Rome.  Even  to  the  present  day  his  character,  though  con- 
stantly attacked  and  scarcely  ever  defended,  is  popular  with  the 
great  body  of  our  countrymen. ' '  These  eloquent  words  of  the 
great  essayist  are  simply  true  ;  and  in  fact,  the  faith  avowed 
by  Macaulay  was  endorsed  and  demonstrated  by  the  great  vin- 
dication in  the  publication  of  the  letters  and  speeches  by 
Thomas  Carlyle  ;  but  we  believe  that  through  all  the  years  that 
have  elapsed  since  the  great  Protector  died,  there  has  been  an 
instinctive  sense  in  the  heart  of  the  English  people  that  his 
name  would  be  cleared  from  all  mists  and  calumnies,  and  know 
a  brilliant  resurrection  ;  while  we  suppose  it  is  true  a  thousand- 
fold now,  as  compared  with  the  time  when  Macaulay  penned 
his  eulogy,  that  his  character  is  popular  with  the  great  body  of 
our  countrymen. 

And  yet,  is  it  now  a  less  difficult  thing  to  bring  before  our 
readers  with  some  vividness  that  strange  and  surely  wraith-like 
form  of  robust  yet  mysterious  majesty,  which  rises  to  our  vision 
in  the  later  twilight  of  English  story  ?  Like  the  patron  saint 
of  England,  St.  George  of  Cappadocia — he  of  the  dragon — 
Cromwell  seems  a  strangely  mythic  character.  In  an  age  when 
real  kings  were  dying  or  dead,  and  sham  kings  were  flying  from 
their  own  weakness  beneath  the  outspread  shadowy  wings  of 
Right  Divine  ;  when,  out  of  the  sea  and  scenery  of  confusion, 
beasts  rose  and  reigned,  like  hydras,  seven-headed  and  seven- 
horned  ;  when  every  man  sought  to  do  what  was  right  in  his 
own  eyes  ;  when  the  prisons  were  full  of  victims,  when  the 
churches  were  full  of  mummeries — there  rose  a  wraith,  unex- 
pected, unprecedented  in  the  history  of  the  nation,  perhaps  of 
the  world,  and  said,  "  Well,  then,  you  must  settle  your  ac- 
count with  me  !"  That  quaint,  broad-hatted  majesty  of  our 
old  folio  histories  was,  without  a  doubt,  the  Pathfinder  of  his 
nation  in  that  age.  "  Pray,  Mr.  Hampden,"  said  Sir  Philip 
Warwick,  when  Cromwell  had  been  rather  more  forcible  than 
usual,  "  who  is  that  sloven  who  spoke  just  now  ;  for  I  see  he 


CONFLICTING   THEOKIES    OF    CROMWELL'S    LIFE.         19 

is  on  our  side,  by  his  speaking  so  warmly."  "  That  sloven 
whom  you  see  before  you,  and  who  hath  no  ornament  in  his 
speech — that  sloven,  I  say,  if  we  should  ever  come  to  a  breach 
with  the  king,  which  God  forbid— that  sloven,  I  say,  will  be, 
in  that  case,  the  greatest  man  in  England."  For  he  was  a  true 
Pathfinder.  He  had  a  gift  of  simplicity  as  great  as  that  finest 
creation  of  the  American  novelist,  and  an  insight  of  wonderful 
power  ;  as  one  set  down  in  the  depth  of  a  wilderness,  where 
there  seems  to  be  no  way,  and  is  able  to  discover  the  thin,  faint 
trail,  and  to  detect  the  burning  eyes  of  the  savage  where  no  life 
seemed  to  rustle  beneath  the  tree.  This  was  his  gift  :  pre- 
science beyond  the  lot  of  mortals.  This,  like  the  scabbard  of 
the  good  sword  Excalibur,  was  more  to  him  than  the  sword 
itself  ;  its  hilt  was  armed  with  eyes. 

Vain,  then,  is  the  employment  to  ask  :  Is  this  man  great  ? — 
and  vain  to  contest  his  sovereignty  and  his  grandeur.  Very 
vain.  You  say,  indeed,  "  What  do  you  here,  farmer  that  you 
are  ;  what  do  you  here  in  the  gallery  of  kings  ?"  Thus  when 
we  have  climbed  old  Helvellyn,  and  had  reached  the  height  of 
its  three  thousand  feet,  we  found  ourselves  amid  a  sanhedrim 
of  crows  and  choughs — a  sublime  council  of  ravens  ;  and  they 
said  to  the  old  hill,  "  Art  thou  larger  than  we  ?  See,  we 
perch  upon  thee,  and  peck  on  thee.  Why  art  thou  here  "? 
Sublimely  stood  the  old  mountain,  the  lightning-scathed  crags 
in  his  sides  bearing  testimony  to  the  thunder-strokes  of  ages, 
and  seeminfj  to  sav,  "  Let  it  suffice  :  I  am  here."  It  is  the 
same  with  Oliver.  He  rises  in  the  English  story  like  a  Helvel- 
lyn, or  a  sublime  Peak  of  Teneriffe,  and  says,  '*  Let  it  suffice  ; 
I  am  hereP^ 

A  few  years  since  it  would  have  sounded  too  bold  if  a 
writer,  in  introducing  the  great  hero  of  the  English  Common- 
wealth to  his  readers,  intimated  his  determination  to  attempt, 
in  defending  him,  to  throw  new  light  round  his  position,  to 
plead  for  his  right  to  a  lofty  place  in  human  estimation,  and  to 
assert  the  honesty  and  integrity  of  his  manhood,  and  the  value 
and  the  worth  of  the  great  work  he  performed.     To  say  this 


20  OLIVER    CROMAVELL. 

now  is  almost  a  matter  of  supererogation.  The  time  has 
gone  by  when  Oliver  Cromwell  needed  any  man's  good  word  : 
the  evidences  of  his  life-long  consistency  of  purpose,  the  gran- 
deur and  durability  of  his  legislative  genius  surround  us  on  all 
hands.  Gradually,  from  many  quarters  of  a  most  opposite 
kind,  proof  has  been  accumulating.  The  wisest,  who  have 
been  disposed  to  form  an  opinion  adverse  to  the  great  English 
Protector,  have  confessed  themselves  compelled  to  pause  before 
pronouncing  ;  others,  again,  have  ransacked  the  archives  of 
state  paper  offices,  the  heaps  of  dingy  family  letters  and  scrolls, 
every  shred  of  paper  bearing  Oliver's  name  that  could  be 
brought  to  light  has  been  produced  ;  and  the  result  is,  that  no 
name,  perhaps,  in  all  history  stands  forth  so  transparent  and 
clear,  so  consistent  throughout.  It  is  the  most  royal  name  in 
English  history,  rivalling  in  its  splendor  that  of  Elizabeth,  the 
Edwards,  and  the  Henrys  ;  outshining  the  proudest  names  of 
the  Norman,  the  Plantagenet,  or  the  Tudor. 

Doubtless,  as  we  have  often  heard,  great  men  are  the  out- 
births  of  their  time  ;  there  is  a  providence  in  their  appearance, 
they  are  not  the  product  of  chance  ;  they  come,  God-appoint- 
ed, to  do  their  work  among  men,  and  they  are  immortal  till 
their  work  is  done.  We  should  not,  perhaps,  speak  so  much 
of  the  absolute  greatness  of  the  men  of  one  age  as  compared 
with  the  men  of  another  ;  they  arc  all  equally  fitted  to  the  task 
of  the  day.  Let  the  man  who  most  hates  the  memory  of  Crom- 
well, ask  not  so  much  what  the  land  and  the  law  were  with 
him,  as  what  they  must  inevitably  have  been  without  him. 
Remove  the  leading  man  from  any  time,  and  you  break  the 
harmony  of  the  time,  you  destroy  the  work  of  that  age  ;  for  an 
age  cannot  move  without  its  great  men — they  inspire  it,  they 
urge  it  forward,  they  are  its  priests  and  its  prophets  and  its 
monarchs.  The  hero  of  a  time,  therefore,  is  the  history  of  a 
time  ;  he  is  the  focus  where  influences  are  gathered,  and  from 
whence  they  shoot  out.  It  has  been  said  that  all  institutions 
are  the  projected  shadow  of  some  great  man,  he  has  absorbed 
all  the  light  of  his  time  in  himself  ;  perhaps  he  has  not  created. 


CONFLICTING    THEOHIES    OP    CROMWELL's    LIFE.  21 

yet  now  he  throws  forth  light  from  liis  name,  clear,  steady, 
practical  light,  that  shall  travel  over  a  century  ;  his  name  shall 
be  the  synonym  of  an  epoch,  and  shall  include  all  the  events  of 
that  age.  Thus  it  is  with  Cromwell  ;  hence,  very  happily,  the 
time  of  the  Commonwealth  has  been  called  the  Cromwelliad. 

But  the  sublime  unconsciousness  of  this  great  spirit  is  the 
most  leading  characteristic  indication  of  his  greatness.  The 
reader  may  remember  what  Cardinal  de  Retz  said  :  "  M.  de 
Bellivre, "  said  the  cardinal,  "told  me  that  he  had  seen  and 
known  Cromwell  in  England.  And  he  said  to  me  one  day, 
that  one  never  mounted  so  high  as  when  one  did  not  know 
where  one  was  going."  Whereupon  says  the  cardinal,  "  You 
know  I  have  a  great  horror  of  Cromwell  ;  but  however  great  a 
man  many  think  him,  I  add  to  this  horror  contempt,  for  if  that 
be  his  opinion,  he  seems  to  me  to  be  a  fool."  But  Cromwell 
was  right.  This  is,  indeed,  in  all  things  true  grandeur  :  the 
unconscious  is  alone  complete.  The  eminently  tricky  cardinal 
did  not  know  the  great  flights  of  an  unconscious  spirit,  and 
how  surely  the  measure  of  the  one  is,  in  great  souls,  the  height 
of  the  other.  No  doubt  Cromwell  was  amazed  at  the  lofty 
elevation  to  which  he  ascended  ;  for  he  commenced  his  public 
career  without  any  plan  ;  he  threw  himself,  and  his  fortunes, 
and  his  life,  into  the  scale  against  the  king,  and  on  the  side  of 
the  people.  He  was  at  that  time  a  plain  country  yeoman.  We 
do  not  believe  that  ho  had  any  ambition  other  than  to  serve  the 
cause  with  a  brave  pure  heart.  Could  he,  whose  unnoticed 
days  had  been  passed  by  a  farmer's  ingle,  see  gleaming  before 
his  eyes  a  crown,  which  he  might  refuse  ?  Could  he,  who  had 
spent  his  later  years  in  following  the  plough,  dream  that  he 
should  draw  the  sword,  only  to  find  himself  at,  last  Lhe  greatest 
general  of  his  own  age,  and  one  of  the  greatest  soldiers  of  any 
age  ?  Well  might  he  say,  "  One  never  mounts  so  high  as  ivhen 
one  does  not  know  tohere  one  is  going. ' '  It  is  the  sublime  of 
human  philosophy  and  character  lo  be  able  to  say  this  ;  it  is 
faith  in  Providence  and  in  destiny  alone  which  can  say  this. 
When  he  first  entered  on  the  struggle,  his  thought,  no  doubt. 


2'Z  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

was  to  fulfil  a  duty  or  two  upon  the  field  and  in  the  senate,  and 
then  go  back  to  his  farm.  He  little  thought  that  he  was  to  be 
the  umpire  of  the  whole  contest. 

Certain  it  is  that  we  are  to  seek  for  what  Cromwell  was  in 
after  life,  in  those  early  days  of  his  history.  Some  writers, 
Guizot  among  the  rest,  have  said  that  he  adopted  theories  of 
liberty  of  conscience,  and  so  forth,  to  suit  his  ambition  and  his 
success.  Not  he  !  He  was  for  years,  before  the  breaking  out 
of  civil  war,  substantially  all  that  he  was  after.  When  he 
entered  upon  his  career  of  public  life,  he  had  no  principles  to 
seek  ;  he  had  found  them  long  since,  and  he  acted  upon  them 
invariably.  Nor  can  we  perceive  that  he  adopted  any  new 
principles,  or  expedients,  through  the  whole  of  his  future 
career.  Cromwell  was  all  that  we  include  in  the  term  Puritan. 
His  whole  public  life  was  the  result  of  that  mental  experience 
by  which  his  faith  was  moulded.  In  him  there  was  a  pro- 
found reverence  for  the  law  of  God.  He  had  an  instinctive 
apprehension  of  order.  To  disfranchise,  to  rout  and  put  to 
flight  the  imbecilities  of  anarchists  ;  such  was  his  work.  A 
sworn  soldier  of  the  Decalogue  was  he.  Say  that  he  read  with 
keen  vividness  into  men's  hearts  and  men's  purposes  ;  well,  he 
did  so,  as  any  man  may  do,  by  the  light  of  high  intelligent 
principles  within  him.  In  many  things,  we  do  not  doubt,  he 
much  misinterpreted  texts  of  the  Divine  Book.  Perhaps  he 
was  too  much  a  "  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews."  Some  do  not  see 
how  a  man  can  be  faithfully  a  Christian  man  and  also  a  soldier  ; 
but  if  he  will  be  a  soldier,  then  we  do  not  see  how  he  can  fulfil 
a  soldier's  duty  better  than  by  looking  into  the  Old  Testament. 
We  see  plainly  that  ice  shall  not  know  CrcmwelVs  character  and 
deeds  unless  we  acquaint  ourselves  with  CromwelVs  theology. 

His  theology  made  the  life  of  his  home  in  old  farmer  days 
at  St.  Ives.  His  theology  guided  his  impressions  of  men  and 
events.  His  theology  went  with  him  to  the  army,  and  kindled 
there  his  heroism,  and,  if  you  will,  his  enthusiasm.  His  the- 
ology ruled  his  character  in  the  senate  and  on  the  throne.  It 
was  not  merely  his  speech,  but  deep,  far  beneath  his  speech, 


CONFLICTING   THEOEIES    OF    CEOMVVELL's   LIFE,  23 

lay  his  great  thoughts  of  God  ;  and  unless  you  understand  his 
inner  depth  of  vital  conviction,  you  will  have  no  comprehen- 
sion of  the  man.  His  mind  was  fostered  from  tlie  unseen 
springs  of  meditation,  and  from  reading  in  that  literature,  un- 
questionably the  most  glorious  in  magnificence  and  wealth  we 
have  had.  In  our  age  we  have  little  religious  literature  :  the 
mighty  folios  in  which  the  Puritan  fathers  taught  have  dwin- 
dled down  to  the  thin  tracts  in  which  our  friend  the  Rev.  Octa- 
vian  Longcloth,  or  his  curate,  the  Rev.  Dismal  Darkman,  mix 
their  acidulated  milk  and  water  for  weak  stomachs.  Far 
different  was  the  theology  of  Cromwell  and  the  writers  of 
Cromwell's  age.  Manton,  himself  one  of  the  greatest  of  these 
writers,  says  Cromwell  had  a  large  and  well-selected  library. 
Many  of  our  most  famous  pieces  were  then  unwritten  ;  but 
there  were  some  pieces  of  Smith,  Caudray,  Adams,  Owen, 
Goodwin,  and  Mede,  and  the  earlier  fathers,  and  Calvin,  and 
Hooker,  and  Herbert's  lyrics.  We  think  such  were  the  men 
with  whom  Cromwell  walked  and  mused,  and  whose  writings 
shed  light  into  his  soul. 

Sir  John  Goodricke  used  to  relate  a  remarkable  anecdote, 
which  we  should  probably  assign  to  the  siege  of  Knaresbor- 
ough  Castle,  in  1644,  and  which  was  told  him  when  a  boy,  by 
a  very  old  woman,  who  had  formerly  attended  his  mother  in 
the  capacity  of  midwife.  "  When  Cromwell  came  to  lodge  in 
our  house,  in  Knaresborough,"  said  she,  "  I  was  then  hut  a 
young  girl.  Having  heard  much  talk  about  the  man,  I  looked 
at  him  with  wonder.  Being  ordered  to  take  a  pan  of  coals, 
and  air  his  bed,  I  could  not,  during  the  operation,  forbear 
peeping  over  my  shoulder  several  times  to  observe  this  extraor- 
dinary person,  who  was  seated  at  the  far  side  of  the  room 
untying  his  garters.  Having  aired  the  bed,  I  went  out,  and 
shutting  the  door  after  me,  stopped  and  peeped  through  the 
keyhole,  when  I  saw  him  rise  from  his  seat,  advance  to  the 
bed,  and  fall  on  his  knees,  in  which  attitude  I  left  him  for 
some  time.  When  returning  again,  I  found  him  still  at 
prayer  ;  and  this   was  his  custom   every   night  so  long  as  he 


M  OLITER   CROMWELL. 

stayed  at  our  house  ;  from  wliich  I  concluded  tie  must  be  a 
good  man  ;  and  this  opinion  I  always  maintained  afterward, 
though  I  heard  him  very  much  blamed  and  exceedingly 
abused. ' ' 

No  !  we  should  say  there  would  be  no  shaking  this  woman's 
faith  in  him.  To  her  he  would  appear  as  what  he  was — genu- 
ine and  transparent.  How  many  of  Cromwell's  maligners, 
how  many  of  us  writers  and  readers,  would  stand  the  test  of 
the  keyhole  ? 


CHAPTER  II. 

ANCESTRY,  FAMILY,  AND  EARLY  DAYS. 

It  cannot  be  an  unimportant  thing  to  glance  at  the  ancestry 
of  a  powerful  man  ;  and  that  of  Cromwell  is  very  curious,  more 
like  that  of  the  Tudors,  whom  he  so  much  resembles,  than  like 
that  of  any  other  royal  name  of  England.  lie  was  descended 
from  a  Celtic  stock  by  his  mother's  side.  lie  was  a  ninth 
cousin  of  Charles  I.*  Elizabeth  Steward,  Mrs.  Robert  Crom- 
well, the  mother  of  Oliver,  was  descended  from  Alexander,  the 
Lord  High  Steward  of  Scotland — the  ancestor  of  the  whole 
family  of  the  Stewarts.  This  is  one  of  the  most  singular  coin- 
cidences occurring  in  history  ;  but  the  family  of  Cromwell's 
father  was  from  Wales.  He  was  the  second  son  of  Sir  Henry 
Cromwell,  himself  eldest  son  and  heir  to  Sir  Richard  Williams, 
alias  Cromwell,  who,  as  the  issue  of  Morgan  Williams,  by  his 
marriage  with  a  sister  of  Thomas,  Lord  Cromwell,  Earl  of 
Essex,  assumed — like  his  father— the  name  of  Cromwell. 
Morgan  ap  Williams  is  said  to  have  derived  his  family  from  a 
noble  lineage,  namely,  that  of  the  Lords  of  Powys  and  Cardi- 
gan, who  flourished  during  the  period  of  the  conquest.  But 
of  this  we  are  not  herald  sufficient  to  declare  the  truth  ;  how- 
ever, all  Welsh  blood  is  royal  or  noble.  The  elevation  of  the 
Cromwell  family  is  to  be  dated  from  the  introduction  of  Rich- 
ard Williams  to  the  Court  of  Henry  VHL,  by  Thomas  Crom- 
well, the  son  of  Walter  Cromwell,  some  time  a  blacksmith,  and 
afterward  a  brewer  at  Putney,  in  Surrev,  and  a  great  favorite 
with  the  bluff  old  Hal.  Richard  Williams  appears  to  have 
been — and  he  was  —  one  of  the  few  royal  favorites  who  did  not 
lose  his   head   as   the   penalty   for  his  sovereign's  favoritism. 

*  For  a  stream  of  Cromwell's  ancestry,  and  proof  of  this,  see 
Forster's  "  Lives  of  British  Statesmen,"  vol.  vi.  pp.  35-307.  But 
more  explicitly  in  "  The  Cromwell  Family"  of  Mark  Noble. 


2G  OLIVER    CROMAVELL. 

We  liave  an  account  of  a  great  tournament,  held  by  King 
Ilarry,  where  Richard  acquitted  himself  right  gallantly. 
There  the  king  knighted  him,  and  presented  him  with  a  dia- 
mond ring,  exclaiming,  "  Formerly  thou  was  my  Dick,  but 
now  thou  art  my  Diamond,"  and  bidding  hira  for  the  future 
wear  such  a  one  in  the  fore  gamb  of  the  demi-lion  in  his  crest, 
instead  of  a  javelin  as  before.  The  arms  of  Sir  Richard,  with 
this  alteration,  were  ever  afterward  borne  by  the  elder  branch 
of  the  family  ;  and  by  Oliver  himself,  on  his  assuming  the 
Protectorship,  though  previously  he  had  borne  the  javelin. 
Henry  himself,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  of  Welsh  descent  ; 
and  he  strongly  recommended  it  to  the  Welsh  to  adopt  the 
mode  of  most  civilized  nations,  in  taking  familv  names,  instead 
of  their  manner  of  adding  their  father's,  and,  perhaps,  their 
grandfather's  name  to  their  own  Christian  one,  as  Morgan  ap 
Williams,  or  Richard  ap  Morgan  ap  Williams. 

Great  was  the  munificence  and  large  the  possessions  of  the 
Cromwell  family.  Our  Oliver,  indeed,  appears  to  have  been 
poor  enough  for  so  great  a  connection  ;  but  his  uncle,  Sir 
Oliver,  inherited  all  the  estates  of  his  ancestor.  Sir  Richard  ; 
and  these  included  many  of  those  wealthv  monasteries  and 
nunneries  for  the  escheatment  and  confiscation  of  which 
Thomas  Cromwell  has  become  so  famous,  constituting  him 
Malleus  Monarhorum,  the  "  Hammerer  of  Monasteries,"  as 
Oliver  has  been  called  Malleus  Monarchorum,  or  the  "  Ham- 
merer of  Kings  and  Thrones." 

Hinchinbrook,  near  Huntingdon,  was  the  residence  of  Sir 
Oliver.  There,  no  doubt,  he  kept  Up  a  magnificent  old  Eng- 
lish cheer.  Beneath  his  gateway  he  received,  and  in  his  halls 
he  entertained,  three  English  monarchs.  Elizabeth,  when  she 
left  the  University  of  Cambridge,  paid  him  a  visit  ;  King 
James  I.  was  entertained  by  him  several  times  ;  as  was  also 
Charles  I.  But  the  great  festivity  of  his  life  was  his  reception 
of  James  on  his  way  to  London  from  Edinburgh,  when  he  suc- 
ceeded to  the  English  throne.  High  feasting  days  were  those 
at  Hinchinbrook  House.     The  kino;  came  in  a  kind  of  state  ; 


AN"CESTRy,    FAMILY,    AND    EARLY    DAYS.  27 

Sir  Oliver  entertained  all  comers  with  the  choicest  viands  and 
wines,  and  even  the  populace  had  free  access  to  the  cellars  dur- 
ing His  Majesty's  stay.  At  his  leaving  Hinchinbrook,  after 
breakfast,  on  the  29th  of  April,  he  was  i)Ieased  to  express  his 
obligations  to  the  baronet  and  his  lady,  saying  to  the  former, 
with  his  characteristic  vulgarity,  "  Marry,  nion,  thou  hast 
treated  me  better  than  any  one  since  I  left  Edinburgh  ;"  and 
an  old  chronicler  remarks,  "It  is  more  than  proliaWe,  better 
than  ever  that  prince  was  treated  before  or  after  ;"  for  it  is  said 
Sir  Oliver  at  this  time  gave  the  greatest  feast  that  had  been 
given  to  a  king  by  a  subject. 

We  shall  not  have  occasion  to  refer  to  Sir  Oliver  again 
througJiout  this  biography,  and  therefore  we  may  close  this 
notice  of  him  by  saying  that  he  continued  throughout  his  life 
loyal  to  the  cause  of  king  and  cavalier.  He  obliged  all  his  sons 
to  serve  in  the  Royalist  army,  and  was  ever  more  obnoxious  to 
the  Parliamentaiian  cause  than  any  person  in  his  neighborhood. 
At  last  he  was  obliged  to  sell  his  seat  of  Hinchinbrook,  and  he 
retired  to  live  in  silence  and  quiet  in  Ramsey,  in  the  county  of 
Huntingdon.  His  whole  estates  were  sequestrated,  but  spared 
through  the  interposition  and  for  the  sake  of  his  illustrious 
nephew.  He  never,  however,  courted  the  favor  of  Oliver,  and 
no  doubt  was  heartily  ashamed  of  him.  The  losses  he  sus- 
tained from  his  loyalty  were  so  great  that,  as  the  shades  of  the 
evening  of  life  closed  round  him,  they  found  him  deep  in 
pecuniary  difficulties  ;  and  he  is  said  to  have  been  buried,  in 
the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  he  died,  in  the  chancel  of 
Ramsey  church,  in  order  to  prevent  his  body  being  seized  for 
debt.* 

But  although  we  linger  thus  long  upon  the  ancestry  and  rela- 
tionships of  Oliver  (perhaps  it  may  be  thought  too  long),  it 
must  not  be  supposed  that  we  do  so  from  any  foolish  effort  to 

*  The  reader  may  recall  one  of  the  most  charming  of  the  imaginary 
conversations  of  Walter  Savage  Lander  as  being  between  old  Sir 
Oliver  and  his  nej)hew  and  namesake,  beneath  the  gateway  of 
Eamsey  Abbey. 


28  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

disconnect  him  from  the  ranks  of  toil  and  labor.  The  truth 
appears  to  be  that  Mr.  Robert  Cromwell,  the  brother  of  Sir 
Oliver,  was  by  no  means  his  brother's  equal  in  either  position 
or  wealth.  The  honors  of  the  family  would  be,  of  course,  re- 
flected upon  him,  but  his  income  never  exceeded,  indepen- 
dently, £300  per  annum,  and  it  is  certain  that  he  sought  to  in- 
crease his  fortune  by  engaging  in  trade.  He  appears  to  have 
been  a  brewer,  but  he  was  also  a  justice  of  the  peace  for 
Huntingdon.  He  represented  the  same  town  in  Parliament  in 
the  thirty-fifth  of  Elizabeth  ;  and  he  was  one  of  the  commis- 
sioners for  draining  the  fens.  He  appears  to  have  been  a  plain 
and  simple  country  gentleman  ;  but  it  is  probable  his  inter- 
course with  the  world  had  enabled  him  to  give  to  his  son  views 
of  men  and  things  which  might  materially  influence  his  impres- 
sions in  after  life. 

Oliver  Cromwell,  one  of  the  most  illustrious  captains  on  the 
field  and  legislators  in  the  cabinet  of  any  age,  was  born  at 
Huntingdon,  April  25th,  1599. 

In  the  region  of  the  Fens,  then,  our  English  hero  was 
reared  ;  a  quiet,  picturesque  region,  far  removed  from  any 
bold  or  exciting  scenery.  There,  now  as  then,  the  quiet 
waters  of  the  winding  Ouse  pursue  their  way  amid  sedgy  banks 
and  stunted  poplars  and  willows  ;  amid  fields  not  so  well 
drained  as  now,  and  amid  scenes  farther  removed  than  now 
they  seem  from  the  noise  of  the  great  world.  There  the 
mystery  of  life  fell  upon  him  ;  and  in  rambles  about  God- 
manchester,  and  Houghton,  and  Warbois,  and  the  Upper  and 
Lower  Hemingfords — all  of  them  at  that  time  having  the  repu- 
tation of  being  witch-haunted,  and  therefore  under  the  atrocious 
visitations  of  Matthew  Hopkins-— there,  in  these  spots,  Oliver 
found  his  sport-places  and  play-grounds,  and  there,  no  doubt, 
his  young  mind  was  haunted  by  strange  dreams.  We  need  not 
keep  our  readers  with  narrations  as  to  how  he  was  saved  from 
drowning  by  one  who  wished  afterward  that  he  had  let  him 
drown  ;  how  he  wrestled  with  little  Charles,  Prince  of  Wales, 
as  he  came  along  that  way   with  his  father,  James  I.,  and 


AN'CESTRY,    FAMILY,    AND    EARLY    DAYS.  20 

enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  old  Sir  Oliver  Cromwell,  at  Iliiicliin- 
brook  ;  how  he  was  endangered  and  saved,  in  his  childhood, 
from  death,  by  a  monkey. 

"  His  very  infancy,"  says  Noble,  "if  we  believe  what  Mr. 
Audley,  brother  to  the  famous  civilian,  says  he  heard  some  old 
men  tell  his  grandfather — was  marked  with  a  peculiar  accident, 
that  seemed  to  threaten  the  existence  of  the  future  Protector  : 
for  his  grandfather.  Sir  Henry  Cromwell,  having  sent  for  him 
to  Hinchinbrook — near  Huntingdon,  the  ancient  family  seat — 
when  an  infant  in  arras,  a  monkey  took  him  from  his  cradle 
and  ran  with  him  upon  the  lead  that  covered  the  roofing  of  the 
house.  Alarmed  at  the  danger  Oliver  was  in,  the  family 
brought  beds  to  catch  him  upon,  fearing  the  creature's  drop- 
ping him  down  ;  but  the  sagacious  animal  brought  the  '  For- 
tune of  England  '  down  in  safety  ;  so  narrow  an  escape  bad 
he,  who  was  doomed  to  be  the  Conqueror  and  Magistrate  of 
three  mighty  nations,  from  the  paws  of  a  monkey.  He  is  also 
said  to  have  been  once  saved  from  drowning  by  a  Mr.  Johnson, 
Curate  of  Cunnington  ;  a  fact  more  credible,  perhaps,  for  that 
1he  same  worthy  clergyman  should  at  a  future  period,  when 
Oliver  was  marching  at  the  head  of  his  troops  through  Hunting- 
don, have  told  him,  that  he  '  wished  he  had  put  him  in,  rather 
than  have  seen  him  in  arms  ao;ainst  the  kinsr  :  '  "  the  latter 
J  art  of  which  story  is  probably  a  loyal  but  fabulous  appendage 
tagged,  after  the  Restoration,  to  the  former. 

Anecdotes  of  the  first  days  of  men  who  have  attained  to  any 
kind  of  command  over  their  fellows  are  frequently  important  ; 
they  give  a  clue  to  the  state  of  opinion  about  them  during  their 
lifetime.  It  is  probable  that  most  of  such  stories,  although 
somewhat  inflated  in  their  tone,  may  yet  have  a  fundamental 
substance  of  truth  and  dramatic  propriety.  Thus  there  are  a 
few  tales  told  of  our  hero  which  do  appear  to  be,  in  no  slight 
degree,  illustrative  of  his  after  life  ;  and  thus  we  should  expect 
it  to  be.  Manhood  is  contained  in  boyhood  ;  do  we  not  often 
echo  the  words  of  our  poet,  "  the  child  is  father  to  the  man"  ? 
We  cannot  conceive  Oliver  iqferjor  to  his  young  comrades, 


30  OILVER   CROMWELL. 

either  in  physical  or  mental  prowess  :  he  was,  beyond  all 
doubt,  a  burly  little  liriton,  with  lHru;e  resources  of  strength  ; 
and  from  a  shrewd  comprehension  of  things,  whether  in  sport 
or  in  school,  and  a  musing,  dreamy,  half  poetic  (in  those 
days),  all  enthusiastic  temperament,  was,  no  doubt,  frequently 
carried  far  out  of  the  reach  of  his  playmates  and  companions. 
All  childhoods  are  not  cheerful,  all  childhoods  are  not  exempt 
from  care.  Strong  and  sensitive  natures  are  stamped  with  a 
wonderful  precocity  ;  even  in  their  cradles  the  shadows  of 
future  achievements,  the  prophecies  of  unperformed  actions, 
cross  the  j)ath.  Dim  and  undefined,  like  worlds  not  realized, 
their  destiny  rises  before  them  like  a  painting  oii  the  mist,  even 
in  the  very  earliest  of  their  years  ;  and  Oliver  was  of  that 
peculiar  temperament  that  it  seems  necessary  to  believe  that 
such  a  boyhood  was  his. 

He  went  to  Huntingdon  Free  Grammar  School,  and  the 
place  we  believe  is  still  shown  where  he  sat  and  studied  his 
first  lessons.  Heath,  a  scurrilous  compiler  of  a  life  of  Crom- 
well, who  has  been  handed  down  to  future  years  by  Carlyle 
under  the  patronymic  of  "  Carrion  Heath,"  has,  with  a 
laudable  zeal,  chronicled  the  number  of  dovecotes  robbed  by 
our  daring  little  Protector  ;  with  a  meanness  of  malice  un- 
equalled, he  has  recounted  his  adventures  in  breaking  into 
orchards,  and  other  such  juvenile  offences.  For  our  part, 
we  do  not  doubt  both  his  capabilities  and  disposition  for  such 
adventures. 

More  interesting  will  it  be  for  us  to  notice  the  various  tradi- 
tions that  have  come  down  to  us  of  the  feats  and  appearances 
of  those  early  days.  Especially  is  it  recorded  that  Charles  I. , 
when  a  child,  was  with  his  father,  the  king,  at  Hinchinbrook 
House,  the  seat  of  Sir  Oliver,  of  whom  we  have  made  mention 
above  ;  he  wus  then  Duke  of  York.  And  that  he  should  visit 
the  old  knight  is  very  likely,  as  we  do  know  that  many  times 
the  hospitable  gates  were  thrown  open  to  the  monarch  and  his 
familj,  either  going  to  or  returning  from  the  north  to  the 
English  capital.     But  upon  this  occasion  the  future  monarch 


ANCESTRY,    FAMILY,    AND    EARLY    DAYS.  31 

and  future  Protector  met,  and  engaged  each  other  in  childish 
sport,  in  wliich  Charles  got  the  worst  of  it. 

For  what  fixed  the  attention  of  the  lovers  of  prognostications 
in  that  and  succeeding  ages,  was  that  "  the  youths  had  not 
been  long  together  before  Charles  and  Oliver  disagreed  ;  and, 
as  the  former  was  then  as  weakly  as  the  latter  was  strong,  it 
was  no  wonder  that  the  royal  visitant  was  worsted  ;  and 
Oliver,  even  at  this  age,  so  little  regarded  dicnity,  that 
he  made  the  royal  blood  flow  in  copious  streams  from  the 
prince's  nose."  "This,"  adds  the  author,  "was  looked 
upon  as  a  bad  presage  for  the  king  when  the  civil  wars  com- 
menced." 

Certainly  there  is  nothing  unlikely  or  improbable  in  this 
anecdote.  If  Charles  visited  Hinchinbrook — and  that  he  did 
frequently  has  all  the  certainty  of  moral  evidence — he  would 
surely  meet  young  Oliver,  and  he  would  certainly  not  be  in  his 
company  long,  we  may  venture  to  assert,  without  a  quarrel  ; 
haughty  obstinacy  and  daring  resolution — the  weakness  and 
effeminacy  of  a  child  of  the  Court,  and  the  sturdy  independence 
and  strength  of  the  little  rustic  farmer — would  easily  produce 
the  consequences  indicated  in  the  story. 

The  same  writer  relates  as  "  more  certain,"  and  what  Oliver 
himself,  he  says,  "  often  averred,  when  he  was  at  the  height  of 
his  glory,"  that,  on  a  certain  night,  in  his  childhood,  he  "  saw 
a  gigantic  figure,  which  came  and  opened  the  curtains  of  bis 
bed,  and  told  him  that  he  should  be  the  greatest  person  in  the 
kingdom,  but  did  not  mention  the  word  king  ;  and,"  continues 
the  reverend  narrator,  "  though  he  was  told  of  the  folly  as  well 
as  wickedness  of  such  an  assertion,  he  persisted  in  it  ;  for 
which  he  was  flogged  by  Dr.  Beard,  at  the  particular  desire  of 
his  father  ;  notwithstanding  which,  he  would  sometimes  repeat 
it  to  his  uncle  Stewart,  who  told  him  it  was  traitorous  to  relate 
it."  Different  versions  have  been  given  of  this  tale.  It  even 
finds  a  place,  with  much  other  serious  anti-monarchical  matter, 
in  what  Lord  Clarendon  so  intemperately  (as  the  great  Fox  ob- 
served) called  his  "  History  of  the  Rebellion"  ;  but  we  dismiss 


32  OLIVER   CROilAVELL. 

it  for  the  moment,  again  to  recur  to  the  pages  of  that  indefati- 
gable collector,  Mark  Noble, 

For  yet  another  incident  recorded  of  these  years  is  connected 
with  the  performance  of  a  comedy  called  Lingua,  attributed  to 
Anthony  Brewer,  and  celebrating  the  contest  of  the  five  senses 
for  the  crown  of  superiority,  and  discussing  the  pretensions  of 
the  tono-ue  to  be  admitted  as  a  sixth  sense.  It  is  certainly  a 
proof  of  the  admitted  superiority  of  Oliver  over  his  schoolfel- 
lows, that  the  principal  character  was  awarded  to  him  ;  and 
truly  there  is  something  remarkable  in  the  coincidence  of  some 
of  his  impersonations  and  the  realities  of  his  future  life.  In 
the  character  of  Tactus,  or  the  sense  of  feeling,  "  The  little 
actor  came  from  his  tiring-room  upon  the  stage,  his  head  encir- 
cled with  a  chaplet  of  laurel.  He  stumbled  over  a  crown  pur- 
posely laid  there,  and,  stooping  down,  he  took  it,  and  crowned 
himself.  It  is  said — but  how  likely  that  such  things  should 
be  said  ! — that  he  exhibited  more  than  ordinary  emotion  as  he 
delivered  the  majestical  words  of  the  piece."  Nor  may  we 
refuse  to  believe  that  his  mmd  felt  something  of  the  import  of 
the  words  he  uttered  :  all  unconscious  as  he  was  that  he  was 
uttering  a  prophecy  connected  with  his  own  life  ;  and  he 
would,  perhaps,  recur  to  them  when,  in  after  years,  he  came, 
from  a  position  so  lowly,  to  be  so  near  to  the  neighborhood  of 
a  crown  ;  when  the  highest  symbols  of  power  were  brought  to 
his  touch,  and  his  name,  lauded  in  poetry  and  oratory,  alike  by 
friends  and  parasites,  was  placed  on  the  level  of  the  Caesars  and 
Alexanders,  as  he  strode  on  from  height  to  height  of  pride  and 
power. 

Oliver  had  a  very  stern  schoolmaster,  and  whatever  may 
have  been  the  necessity  existing  for  it,  Dr.  Beard  is  said  to 
have  visited  upon  him  a  severity  of  discipline  unusual  even  for 
those  severe  davs. 

Thus  we  obtain  glimpses  of  his  early  life  :  thus  it  comes  be- 
fore us.  He  was  learning  then — learning  in  many  and  various 
ways — around  the  hearth  at  Huntingdon.  By  the  winter  fire- 
side he   would  hear  the  rumors  from  the  great  world  of  the 


ANCESTRY,    FAMILY,    AND    EARLY    DAYS,  33 

Popish  Gunpowder  Plot  ;  lie  was  six  years  old  when  the  news 
of  this  would  reach  his  father's  house.  He  was  eleven  when 
Henry  of  Navarre,  the  defender  of  the  Protestants  of  France, 
was  assassinated.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  too,  the  intelligence  of 
his  death  would  be  noted  ;  and  the  quiet  and  glorious  end  of 
the  fine  old  martyr  to  Spanish  gold  and  Spanish  influence 
would  make  some  impression,  even  upon  the  quiet  dwellers  of 
Huntingdonshire.  We  do  not  know  his  playmates  :  of  one 
we  have  caught  a  dim  shadow,  a  royal  playmate,  no  match  for 
our  stubborn  little  hero.  Another  we  may  fancy  with  him  in 
the  playground,  his  cousin,  John  Hampden,  five  years  older 
than  Oliver  ;  kind,  but  firm,  gentle,  thoughtful,  mild,  he  would 
temper  the  fiercer  spirit.  They  certainly  knew  each  other  in 
those  days,  and  played  together.  That  surely  is  a  scene  on 
which  artist  and  poet  may  linger,  the  two  boys,  John  Hampden 
and  Oliver  Cromwell,  together  !  We  attempt  to  follow  thent 
through  their  days  of  youth,  their  sports  of  the  field  ;  and 
strive  to  imagine  the  two  strong,  stately  men — warriors,  legis- 
lators, representatives  of  English  mind  and  opinion,  disputants 
with  a  king — in  their  simple  boyhood's  life. 

We  wonder  at  some  things  in  Cromwell's  history.  We 
wonder  that  in  his  after  years,  while  his  soul  was  so  blessed  by 
a  large  toleration,  he  so  resolutely  and  intolerantly  hated 
Romanism.  We  must  remember,  as  we  have  already  said,  that 
when  Oliver  was  six  years  old  there  came  to  his  father's  house 
in  Huntingdon  the  news  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot  ;  we  must 
remember  that  a  feline  Jesuitism  was  sneaking  over  the  whole 
of  England,  and  round  the  courts  of  Europe  and  through  its 
kingdoms  ;  we  must  remember  that  when  he  was  only  eleven 
years  old  the  brave  Henry  of  Navarre  was  murdered  in  the 
streets  of  Paris — fine  defender  of  Protestantism  that  he  was  ! 
Pieces  of  news  like  these  were  calculated  to  sting  a  boy's  mem- 
ory, and  to  remain  there,  and  to  leave  a  perpetual  irritation. 
Popery  was  to  be  hated  then  • — we  now  may  afford  to  forgive 
what  Popery  has  done.  In  that  day  it  did  not  well  comport 
with  public  safety  to  be  so  tranquil  ;  so  Oliver  listened  as  a 


84  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

boy,  and  treasured  these  things  in  his  recollection,  and  when 
the  time  came — the  day  of  wrath — he  heaped  np  the  wrath, 
and  sought  to  set  fire  to  the  whole  tawdry  mass  of  error  and 
corruption. 

Let  us  pause  for  a  moment  or  two  upon  the  days  of  Crom- 
well's i)oyhood  ;  those,  as  we  have  seen,  were  the  days  when 
James  I.  was  king  ;  probably,  as  we  have  said,  the  lad  often 
saw  him  at  the  house  of  his  uncle,  Sir  Oliver  ;  the  sight  would 
not  be  likely  to  enhance  his  conceptions  of  the  dignity  of  the 
sovereign,  as  the  tales  he  heard  would  be  as  little  likely  to  in- 
crease his  respect  for  kingly  power.  Tt  will  not  be  out  of  place 
here  to  devote  a  word  or  two  to  the  delineation  of  the  person 
and  character  of  the  fiist  of  the  English  Stewarts;  for  with 
him,  unquestionably,  those  troubles  began  which  Oliver,  by  and 
by,  would  be  called  upon  to  settle. 

There  were  many  unfortunate  circumstances  which  combined 
to  bring  about  the  unhappy  doom  of  Charles  I.  He  was  un- 
fortunate in  his  own  nature,  in  himself  ;  it  was  unhappy  that 
one  with  a  nature  so  weak,  and  a  will  so  strong,  should  be 
called  upon  to  face  men  and  circumstances  such  as  he  found 
arrayed  against  hiui.  But  we  have  always  thought  the  most 
unfortunate  circumstance  in  the  life  of  Charles  to  have  been 
that  he  was  the  son  of  his  father.  The  name  of  James  I.  has 
become,  and  speaking  upon  the  best  authority  is,  synonymous 
with  every  sentiment  of  contempt  ;  it  is  quite  doubtful 
whether  a  single  feature  of  character,  or  a  single  incident  in  his 
history,  can  command  unchallenged  regard  or  respect  :  that 
about  him  which  does  not  provoke  indignation,  excites  laugh- 
ter. His  conduct  as  the  sovereign  of  his  own  country,  of  Scot- 
land— before  he  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  Eno-land — was  such 
as  to  awaken  more  than  our  suspicion,  beyond  doubt  to  arouse 
our  abhorrence.  He  has  been  handed  down  through  history  as 
a  great  investigator  of  the  mysteries  of  king-craft  ;  but  the 
recoid  of  the  criminal  trials  of  Scotland  seems  to  show  that  he 
chiefly  exercised  his  sagacity  among  those  mysteries  for  the 
purpose  of  procuring  vengeance  on  those  monsters  of  iniquity 


AlSrCESTRY,    FAMILY,    AND    EARLY    DAYS.  35 

who  had  sneered  at  his  person  or  undervahied  his  abilities. 
AVhenever  his  own  person  was  reflected  on,  he  followed  the  de- 
linquent like  a  panther  prowling  for  his  prey  ;  and,  as  Pitcairn 
has  shown  in  his  immense  and  invaluable  work  on  the  criminal 
trials  of  Scotland,  he  never  failed  in  pursuing  his  victim  to 
death.  It  is  worth  while  to  recite  an  instance  or  two  :  On  the 
third  of  August,  1596,  John  Dickson,  an  Englishman,  was  in- 
dicted for  uttering  calumnious  and  slanderous  speeches  against 
the  king.  The  amount  of  his  offence  was,  that  being  drunk, 
he  had  allowed  a  boat  he  was  managing  to  come  in  the  way  of 
one  of  the  king's  ordnance  vessels,  when,  being  called  upon  by 
Archibald  Gairdenar,  one  of  his  majesty's  cannoncrs,  to  give 
place  to  his  majesty's  ordnance,  "  he  fyrst  ansserit,  that  he 
would  nocht  vyre  his  boit  for  king  or  kasard  :  and  thairefter, 
maist  proudlie,  arrogantlie,  shlanderouslie,  and  calumniouslie 
callit  his  majestic  ane  bastard  king  :  and  that  he  was  nocht 
worthie  to  be  obeyit. "  The  jury  found  him  guilt}^,  but  quali- 
fied their  verdict  by  admitting  his  drunkenness  ;  but  their  quali- 
fication did  not  avail — the  poor  fellow  was  hanged.  Another 
case  Mr.  Pitcairn  gives,  of  John  Fleming,  of  Cohburn  Path, 
who  was  indicted  for  uttering  treasonable,  blasphemous,  and 
damnable  speeches  against  the  king.  lie  appears  to  have  lost 
a  case  in  litigation  ;  and  on  being  asked  why  he  uttered  blas- 
phemous and  horrible  words  concerning  the  king,  he  made  this 
scornful  and  disdainful  answer,  "  That  were  it  not  for  the  king 
and  his  laws,  he  would  not  have  lost  his  lands  ;  and  therefore 
he  cared  not  for  the  king,  for  hanging  would  be  the  worst  for 
it."  He  spoke  like  a  prophet,  he  was  hanged.  But  in  1609, 
Francis  Tennant,  merchant  and  burgess  of  Edinburgh,  was  in- 
dicted for  writing  slanderous  w^ords  against  the  king,  and  he 
was  sentenced  to  be  taken  to  the  market  cross  of  Edinburgh 
and  his  tongue  cut  out  at  the  root  ;  then  a  paper  should  be 
affixed  to  his  brow,  bearing  "  that  he  is  convict  for  forging  and 
geveing  out  of  certane  vyld  and  seditious  parcellis,  detracting 
us  and  our  maist  nobill  progenitouris  ;  and  thairefter  that  he 
shall  be  takyn  to  the  gallous,    and  hangit,   ay  quhill  he  be 


36  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

deid."  By  a  merciful  decree  this  audacious  sinner  was  yet 
permitted  to  be  hung  with  his  tongue  in  his  head.  Another 
remarkable  instance  concerns  an  oiiender  who  had  affixed  upon 
one  of  the  Colleges  of  Oxford  some  seditious  words  reflecting 
on  the  king,  after  he  had  attained  to  the  English  throne.  The 
laws  of  England  did  not  permit  the  hunting  this  delinquent, 
one  Thomas  Rose,  to  death  ;  so  the  king  wrote  to  his  faithful 
Privy  Council  of  Scotland,  informing  them  of  the  most  un- 
handsome restrictions  placed  upon  his  kingly  power,  soliciting 
their  advice,  and  as  the  words  had  reflected  upon  the  Scottish 
king  and  the  Scottish  nation,  expressing  his  wish  that  the  man 
should  be  tried  in  Scotland.  To  which  from  the  Priw  Council 
he  received  a  gracious  reply,  informing  him  that  they  would 
receive  him,  the  prisoner,  and  commit  him  to  the  Iron  House 
(by  which  name  the  cage  was  called  in  which  desperate  prison- 
ers were  confined  previous  to  their  execution),  and  continuing  : 
*'  Oure  opinioun  is  that  he  sal  be  hanged  at  the  Mercatt-Croce 
of  Edinburghc,  and  his  heade  affixt  on  one  of  the  Portis.  But 
in  this  we  submitt  oure  selffis  to  vour  maiesteis  directioun  ; 
quhairunto  we  sail  conforme  our  selffis."  The  poor  fellow  was 
hung.  James  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  divinity  which  doth 
hedge  a  king  ;  but  it  must  seem  something  surprising  that, 
however  Scotland  might  bow  down  graciously  to  such  follies, 
England  should  yield  as  compliantly  to  his  will.  His  reply  to 
his  first  counsellors  upon  his  arrival  in  England  is  well  known  : 
"  Do  I  mak  the  Judges  ?  do  I  mak  the  Bishops  ?  then,  Godis 
wauns  !  I  mak  wliat  likes  me,  law  and  gospel."  Commenting 
upon  this,  John  Forster,  in  his  "  Statesmen  of  England,"  says, 
"  He  was  tiot  an  absolute  fool,  and  little  more  can  be  said  of 
him."  It  was  the  bluff  Henry  IV.  of  France  who  affixed  to 
him  the  soubriquet,  with  its  sly  insinuation,  that  "  undoubtedly 
he  was  Solomon— </ie  son  of  David.'"  There  was  nothing  in 
the  appearance  of  this  person  which  carried  the  presence  of 
sovereignty  along  with  the  impudent  arrogance  of  his  audacious 
will.  A  contemporary  describes  him  when,  at  the  age  of 
thirty-seven,   he  came   to  the   English   throne  :   "  He   was  of 


AKCESTRY,   FAMILY,    AND   EARLY    DAYS.  37 

middle  stature,  more  corpulent  through  his  clothes  than  in  his 
body,  yet  fat  enough  ;  his  eye  large,  ever  rolling  after  any 
stranger  that  came  in  his  presence,  insomucli  as  many,  for 
shame,  left  the  room  as  being  out  of  countenance  ;  his  tongue 
was  too  large  for  his  mouth,  and  made  him  drink  very  un- 
comely, as  if  eating  his  drink,  which  came  out  into  his  cup  at 
each  side  of  his  mouth  ;  his  skin  was  as  soft  as  taffeta  sarsenet, 
which  felt  so  because  he  never  washed  his  hands,  but  rubbed 
his  fingers'  ends  quite  slightly  with  the  wet  end  of  a  napkin  ; 
his  legs  were  very  weak,  some  have  thoilght  through  some  foul 
play  in  his  youth,  and  the  weakness  made  him  ever  leaning  on 
other  people's  shoulders,  and  his  walk  was  ever  circular."  * 
The  arbitrary  powers  assuined  by  this  singular  person  can  only 
have  had  the  effect  of  rousing  the  most  vehement  indignation 
in  the  minds  of  the  very  many  who  in  England,  in  that  da}', 
were  beginning  to  realize  the  folly  and  emptiness  of  all  merely 
titular  claims  to  homasre  and  reo'ard.  On  a  cold  October 
morning,  in  1G19,  a  great  crime  was  perpetrated,  the  influence 
of  which  was  to  create  one  of  the  most  bitter  and  invincible 
enemies  to  the  tactics  and  policy  of  the  Stuarts,  as  represented 
either  by  James  or  Charles  :  that  fine  old  English  gentleman. 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  was  brought  forth  to  the  scaffold  in  F'alace 
Yard.  Perhaps  the  reader  is  scarcely  able  to  repress  the  feel- 
ing, even  now,  of  abhorrent  indignation  that  such  a  miserable 
piece  of  loathsome  corruption  as  James  should  have  been  able 
to  order  the  death  of  so  great  and  magnanimous  a  man.  It 
was  on  the  29th  of  October,  when  the  officers  went  into  his 
room  to  tell  him  that  all  was  in  readiness  f(jr  his  execution, 
they  found  him  smoking  his  last  pipe  and  drinking  his  last  cup 
of  sack,  remarking  to  those  who  came  to  fetch  him,  that  "  it 
was  a  good  liquor,  if  a  man  might  stay  by  it."  He  said  he 
was  ready,  and  so  they  set  forth.  Young  Sir  John  Eliot  was,in 
the  crowd,  and  saw  him  die,  and  he  never  forgave  that  death  ; 
and  perhaps,  the  rather  as  it  was  the  offering  of  cowardice  to 

*  Weldon's  character  of  King  James,  quoted  in  "Memoirs   of  the 
Court  of  King  James  I.,"  by  Lucy  Akin. 


38  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

appease  the  animosity  of  Spain.  And  in  future  years,  when 
Cromwell  had  to  decide  whether  he  should  accept  an  alliance 
with  France  or  Spain,  it  was  probably  the  death  of  Raleigh, 
amonsf  other  motives,  which  led  him  to  send  forth  Blake  to 
pour  his  tempests  of  fire  over  the  Spanish  colonies,  and  to 
avenge  the  outrages  on  England  so  often  perpetrated  by  that 
power,  so  hateful  and  abominable  to  all  English  tastes  and  feel- 
in"*.  There  seems  nothino-  in  the  character  of  James  which 
could  ever  have  recommended  him  to  English  sympathies, 
whether  we  regard  his  dealings  with  Church  or  State,  whether 
with  matters  of  political  principle  or  finance.  It  is  a  singular 
trait  of  his  character  that  he  affected  to  treat  wuth  contempt  his 
illustrious  predecessor,  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  no  doubt  regarded 
himself  as  far  superior  to  her  in  all  that  constituted  the  majesty 
of  the  sovereign,  and  all  that  could  imply  power  of  dealing  with 
statesmen.  Many  enormities  of  cruelty,  which  had  fallen  into 
hopeful  disuse  in  her  reign,  were  called  into  existence  again. 
He  commenced  a  more  severe  persecution  of  the  Puritans  ;  and 
many  of  his  speeches,  either  to  them  or  about  them,  exhibit  at 
once  the  low  shrewdness  and  the  despotic  wilfulness  of  his 
character.  In  his  speeches  to  the  Puritan  champions,  when 
they  ventured  to  address  his  majesty  in  petition  for  a  revival  of 
those  meetings  which  Elizabeth  and  her  bishops  had  been  at 
great  pains  to  suppress,  he  burst  forth  into  most  unkinglike 
anger,  and  violent  and  abusive  harshness.  "  If  you  aimed  at  a 
Scotch  Presbytery,  it  agrees  as  well  with  monarchy  as  God  and 
devil  ;  then  Jack  and  Tom  and  Will  and  Dick  shall  meet,  and, 
at  their  pleasure,  censure  me  and  my  council."  "  My  Lords 
the  bishops,"  he  said,  putting  his  hand  to  his  hat,  "  I  may 
thank  you  that  these  men  plead  thus  for  my  supremacy,  they 
think  they  cannot  make  their  party  good  against  you  but  by 
appealing  unto  it.  But  if  once  you  are  out,  and  they  in,  I 
know  what  will  become  of  my  supremacy  ;  for  no  bishop,  no 
kinij  '  I  have  learned  of  what  cut  they  have  been  who,  preach- 
ing before  me  since  my  coming  into  England,  passed  over  with 
silence  my    I)cing  supreme  governor  in  causes  ecclesiastical." 


AISTCESTRY,    FAMILY,    AND    EARLY    DAYS.  39 

Then  turning  to  Dr.  Reynolds,  "  Well,  Doctor,  have  you  any- 
thing more  to  say  ?"  "  No  more,  if  it  please  your  majesty." 
"  If  this  be  all  your  party  hath  to  say,  I  will  make  them  con- 
form themselves,  or  else  harrie  them  out  of  the  land,  or  else  do 
worse."  Such  was  the  indecent  language  this  man  could  in- 
dulge to  gentlemen  who  came,  with  the  meekness  of  subjects, 
to  urge  upon  the  king  the  claims  of  conscience.  It  was  high 
time  that  this  family  should  receive  some  lessons  as  to  the 
limitation  of  royal  prerogative.  And  as  over  the  conscience  of 
his  subjects,  so  he  also  entertained  the  same  ideas  as  to  the 
rights  of  prerogative  over  their  pockets.  lie  was  reckless  in 
his  extravagance,  he  would  listen  to  no  advice,  his  embarrass- 
ments increased  daily  ;  he  did  not  like  parliaments,  and  with- 
out parliaments  how  could  he  obtain  a  parliamentary  grant  ? 
So  he  ordered  the  sheriffs  of  all  the  counties  to  demand  of  all 
persons  of  substance,  within  their  respective  limits,  a  free  gift 
proportionate  to  the  necessities  of  the  king  ;  the  sheriffs  also 
were  ordered  to  take  strict  cognizance  of  all  persons  who 
refused  to  contribute,  and  the  names  of  such  given  in  to  the 
Privy  Council  were  marked  out  for  j)erpctual  harrying  and 
hostility  by  the  Court.  He  did  not  gain  much  by  this  obnox- 
ious and  arbitrary  scheme — only  about  £50,000  it  is  said  ;  but 
it  lost  him  the  confidence  and  the  affection  of  the  entire  nation. 
Such  are  some  sufficient  lines  indicatino;  the  character  of  the 
founder  of  the  line  of  the  Stuarts  in  England  ;  in  a  word,  it 
may  be  said  he  inherited,  in  all  their  coarseness,  the  worst  vices 
of  every  member  of  his  family.  lie  was  not  without  some 
claim  to  the  pretensions  he  made  to  learning,  but  such  learning 
as  he  possessed  exhibited  itself  in  intolerable  pedantry,  and  a 
foolish  and  offensive  parade  of  what  amounted  to  a  little  more 
than  grammatical  precision.  His  works,  such  as  they  are,  re- 
mind us  of  those  personal  pleasantiics  which  Weldon  attaches 
to  his  person.  His  superstition  was  dismal,  grotesque,  and 
dreadful  ;  and  by  his  wild  ideas  concerning  witchcraft,  and  the 
possibility  of  evil  intercourse  with  another  world,  he  aided  in 
the  extension  of  dark  and  morbid  ideas,  and  inaugurated  a  sue- 


40  OLIVEK    CROMWELL. 

cession  of  cruelties  wlucli,  in  their  horrible  enormities  of  perse- 
cution, equalled  almost  anything  to  which  poor  human  nature 
had  been  subjected  in  the  enormities  of  the  Inquisition,  and 
which,  alas  !  furnished  precedents  for  the  continuance  of  the 
same  horrors  through  future  years.  On  the  whole,  it  is 
scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  the  reign  of  James  I.  is  for  the 
most  part  a  dark  blot  in  the  history  of  our  country.  What- 
ever of  lustre  there  may  be  is  derived  from  the  last  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  of  the  age  of  Elizabeth,  or  the  first  streaks  of  dawn, 
promising  the  morning  glory,  v.hen  the  people,  wearied  and 
worn  out  by  the  ignominy  of  oppression,  should  stand  upon 
their  feet  prepared  to  enter  on  the  contest,  and  struggle  for 
rights  withheld  so  long.  The  whole  story  of  the  reign,  how- 
ever, should  be  distinctly  remembered  in  order  that  the  origin 
of  those  ideas  may  be  traced  which  wrought  Avith  such  fatal 
and  tragic  effect  upon  the  character  and  career  of  Charles. 
And  such  was  the  English  monarch  and  monarchy  when  Oliver 
Cromwell  was  a  boy. 

The  schoolboy  days  are  over,  and  we  may  follow  young 
Oliver  to  Cambridge  ;  he  entered,  as  a  fellow-commoner  of  Sid- 
ney Sussex  College,  on  the  Feast  of  the  Annunciation,  the  23d 
of  April,  1616.  Carlyle  has  not  failed  to  notice  a  remarkable 
event  which  transpired  on  this  day,  and  our  readers  shall  have 
it  in  his  own  words  :  "  Curious  enough,"  he  says,  "  of  all 
days,  on  this  same  day,  Shakespeare,  as  his  stone  monument 
still  testifies  at  Stratford-on-A\'on,  died  : 

^^  Obiit  Anno  Domini  1616. 
^ talis  53.      Die  23  Apr.'' 

While  Oliver  Cromwell  was  entering  himself  of  Sidney  Sussex 
College,  William  Shakespeare  was  taking  his  farewell  of  this 
world.  Oliver's  father  had,  most  likely,  come  with  him  ;  it  is 
but  twelve  miles  from  Huntingdon  ;  you  can  go  and  come  in  a 
day.  Oliver's  father  saw  him  write  in  the  album  at  Cam- 
bridge ;  at  Stratford,  Shakespeare's  Ann  Hathaway  was  weep- 
ing over  his  bed.     The  first  world-great  thing  that  remains  of 


AUrCESTRT,    FAMILY,    AXD    EARLY    DAYS.  41 


&  1 


English  history,  tlie  literature  of  Shakespeare,  was  ending 
the  second  world-great  thing  that  remains  of  English  history, 
the  armed  Appeal  of  Puritanism  to  the  invisible  God  of  heaven 
against  many  visible  devils,  on  earth  and  elsewhere,  was,  so  to 
speak,  beginning.  They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances. 
And  one  people  in  its  time  plays  many  parts."  * 

But  Cromwell's  study  at  Cambridge  was  brief  enough.  In 
the  month  of  June  of  the  next  year  he  was  called  to  the  death- 
bed of  his  father  ;  the  wise,  kind  counsellor  and  guide  of  his 
youth  was  gone.  Now  he  followed  him,  as  the  chief  mourner, 
to  the  chancel  of  the  parish  church  of  St.  John's,  and  returned 
to  the  solitary  hearth  to  comfort,  as  he  best  might,  his  surviv- 
ing parent.  We  do  not  know  whether  he  returned  to  Cam- 
bridge ;  but  it  is  probable  that,  if  he  returned,  it  was  for  a 
very  short  time  ;  for  he  had  now  to  prepare  himself  as  quickly 
as  possible  for  the  bustle  and  reality  of  active  life,  as  it  would 
be  necessary  that  he  should  take  his  place  as  director  and  head 
of  the  family.  His  detractors  have  been  glad  to  make  out  a 
case  for  his  ignorance  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  polite  and 
elegant  literature,  and  perhaps  it  could  scarcely  be  expected 
that  a  youth  whose  studies  closed  in  his  seventeenth  year 
should  be  a  finished  scholar  ;  but  facts  stubbornly  contend  for 
the  furniture  and  polishment  of  his  understanding.  He  ever 
had  a  sincere  respect  for  men  of  learning,  and  patronized  and 
elevated  them,  and  showed  a  disposition  to  honor  literature  in 
its  representatives.  He  was  wont  to  converse  in  Latin  with 
the  ambassadors  he  received,  and,  although  Bishop  Burnet  has 
made  it  an  occasion  of  jest,  not  one  of  the  most  learned  of 
them  speaks  of  his  Latin  with  any  slight  or  contempt. 

The  monarchs  and  masters  of  mankind  have  seldom  been 
able  to  abide  the  scrutiny  bestowed  upon  their  home  and  fire- 
side. It  is  the  most  doubtful  of  all  tests  by  which  to  examine 
a  man,  and  especially  a  great  man — a  m:in  whom  the  world  has 
claimed,    whose    time    and    talents    have    been    placed   at    the 

♦  "Cromwell's  Letters  and  Speeches,"  vol.  i.  pp.  58,  59, 


42  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

world's  disposal  ;  a  man  irritated  by  contending  factions,  who 
has  been  compelled  to  appraise  men,  and  their  motives,  and 
frequently  to  appraise  them  very  lowly.  When  we  follow  such 
a  man  from  the  camp,  and  the  cabinet,  and  are  able  to  behold 
a  fountain  of  freshness  playing  through  the  home-thoughts  of 
the  man,  to  see  a  perennial  greenness  about  his  life,  with  his 
wife  and  children,  we  seem  to  have  applied  the  last  test  by 
which  we  attempt  to  understand  his  character.  Now,  it  might 
be  thought  that  Cromwell's  character  had  but  little  home-life 
in  it.  Yet  it  never  changes  ;  it  opens  before  us  in  his  youth, 
and  a  beautiful  freshness  and  affection  appears  to  play  about  it 
until  the  close  of  his  career. 

There  is  something  like  an  answer  to  the  charges  of  his  early 
wildness  and  licentiousness  in  the  fact  that  he  wedded  sucb  a 
woman  as  Elizabeth  Boucher,  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  knight, 
possessed  of  estates  in  Essex  ;  for  the  consent  of  such  a  wife  is 
almost  a  security  for  the  character  of  her  husband. 

Truly  affecting  is  the  imaginary  spectacle,  so  easily  conjured 
up,  of  Cromwell  and  his  bride  standing  by  the  altar  of  St. 
Giles's  Church,  Cripplegate,  the  church  which  was,  by  and  by, 
to  receive  the  body  of  his  friend  and  secretary,  John  Milton. 
The  soft  hand  of  Elizabeth — the  rough,  strong  hand  of  Oliver  ; 
the  hand  holding  that  little  one  in  its  grasp  was  to  deal  death- 
blows on  battle-fields  ;  it  was  to  sign  a  monarch's  death-war- 
rant ;  it  was  to  grasp  the  truncheon  of  royalty  and  power  ;  it 
was  to  fold  the  purple  of  sovereignty  over  the  shoulders  ;  it  was 
to  wave  back  an  offered  crown  !  That  frank  but  strongly-lined 
face,  so  youthful,  yet  prematurely  thoughtful  ;  and  that  kind 
and  gentle  creature,  face  to  face  before  him — through  what  a 
crowd  of  varying  changes  shall  it  sorrow  and  smile  :  in  a  lowly 
homestead,  directing  the  work  of  maids  and  churls  ;  in  a  palace 
and  a  coiu't,  among  nobles  and  sagacious  statesmen  ;  and  again, 
in  silence  and  obscurity  ;  and  shining  with  the  same  equable 
lustre  through  all.  Beautiful  Elizabeth  Boucher  !  so  humble, 
and  yet  so  dignified  !  Those  who  knew  her  have  not  neglected 
to  inform  us  that  she  was  an  excellent  housewife,  descending  to 


ANCESTIiy,    FAMILY.    AND    EARLY    DAYS.  43 

the  kitchen  with  ;is  much  propriety  as  slic  ascended  to  her  lofty 
station,  ilow  she  shines  m  contrast  with  Henrietta,  the  queen 
of  Charles  I.  Was  she  fitted  to  fill  a  throne  ?  Her  name  must 
not  be  included  in  the  biographies  of  the  queens  of  England  ; 
and  yet,  perhaps,  not  one  among  the  queen's  consort  more  truly 
deserves  there  a  chronicle  than  she. 

A  loving  and  beautiful  wife  ;  and  Oliver  appears  ever  to  ad- 
vantao;e  in  connection  with  all  the  memories  we  have  of  her. 
It  is  given  to  us  to  see  something  of  their  home  during  the 
period  of  about  ten  years  that  Cromwell  remained  in  quietude 
and  seclusion.  The  spectacle  of  that  home,  the  interior  of  it, 
is  very  amusing  to  Hume  and  sundry  other  historians  ;  for  it 
would  seem  that  there  was  prayer  there,  and  the  singing  of 
hymns  and  spiritual  songs,  and  the  reading  of  Scripture,  and 
comments,  and  even  preachings,  thereon.  All  this,  to  a  man 
of  Hume's  character  was  most  laughable  and  inexpressibly 
comic.  It  was  all  a  part  of  the  conduct  of  our  '*  fanatical 
hypocrite,"  who,  however,  Hume  thinks,  must  have  lost  very 
much,  and  "  gone  back  in  worldly  matters  in  consequence." 
Now,  with  all  deference  to  Hume's  clearer  perceptions,  hypo- 
crites do  not  usually  like  to  lose  by  their  religious  profession  ; 
to  gain  is  a  part  of  their  policy  and  determination.  We  sus- 
pect, however,  that  Cromwell  did  not  lose.  This  is  mere 
assumption  without  foundation  :  he  would  know,  of  all  men, 
both  how  to  be  "  diligent  in  business  and  fervent  in  spirit." 
And  Milton,  in  his  account  of  him,  leads  us  to  altogether  an- 
other inference  when  he  says,  "  Being  now  arrived  to  a  mature 
and  ripe  age,  all  which  time  he  spent  as  a  private  person,  noted 
for  nothing  so  much  as  the  culture  of  pure  religion  and  an  in- 
tegrity of  life,  he  was  grown  rich  at  home,  and  had  enlarged  his 
hopes,  relying  upon  God  and  a  great  soul,  in  a  quiet  bosom, 
for  any  the  most  exalted  times. "  That  home  at  St.  Ives  the 
late  possessor  of  Cromwell's  house  razed  to  the  ground,  so  that 
not  one  brick  remained  standino-  on  another.  The  man  who 
razed  Cromwell's  house  also  razed  his  own  :  he  died  a  beggar, 
and  his  only  daughter  is  now  in  the  workhouse  of  St,  Ives. 


44  OLIVEE    CEOMWELL. 

Cromwell  married  August  22d,  1620.  Before  him  there  are 
yet  thirty-eight  years  of  life.  Of  these  we  shall  find  that,  dur- 
ing nearly  twenty  of  them,  as  Milton  has  said,  "  he  nursed  his 
great  soul  in  silence,"  especially  during  the  first  ten  years  spent 
in  Huntingdon. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  glance  at  the  education  of  the  hero.     To 
the  superintendence  of  a  brewery  we  may  be  certain  he  added 
the  superintendence   of  farms   and  fields  ;  and  about  1631   he 
removed  from  Huntingdon,    about  five  miles  down  the  river 
Ouse,  to   St.    Ives,   renting  theie   a  grazing  farm.     There   he 
probably  spent  about  seven  years  of  his  life.      If,  reader,  thou 
hast  ever  walked,  as  we  have  done,  by  the  banks  of  that  river, 
through'thc  lovely  little  rural  villages  of  Houghton,  and  Hart- 
ford, and  Hemingford,  and  Godmanchester,  and  the  adjacent 
little  ruralities,  be  sure  thou  hast  trodden  through  some  of  the 
most  remarkable  scenery  in  England — in  the  world.      There  he 
was  accustomed  to  walk  to  and  fro.      Fancy,  immediately  at 
our   bidding,    presents   him   to   us,  by   the  fireside  of  the  old 
gabled  farm-house,  or  in  the  field  attending  to  his  farm  affairs, 
mowing,    milking,    marketing.      We   may   think   of   Cromwell 
standing  in  the  market  with  his  fellow-tradesmen,  and  striding 
through  those  fields,  and  by  those  roadsides,  and  by  the  course 
of   the    stream,     then    sedgy    and    swampy     enough.     What 
thoughts  came  upon  him  ;  for  was  he  not  fighting  there  the 
same  battle  Luther  fought  at  Erfurth  ?     He  was  vexed  by  fits 
of  strange  black  hypochondria.     Dr.  Simcot,  of  Huntingdon, 
"in  shadow  of    meaning,   much  meaning  expressions,"    inti- 
mates to  us  how  much  he  suffered.      He  was  oppressed  with 
dreadful  consciousness  of  sin  and  defect.     He  groaned  in  spirit 
like  Paul,  like  later  saints — Bunyan,  for  instance.     A  flat,  level 
country  is  it  about  St.  Ives,  and  then  probably  much  more  like 
the  fen  country  of  Norfolk  than  the  quiet,  lovely  seclusion  its 
neighborhood  wears  at  the  present  day  ;  but  there,  in  the  ex- 
perience of  this  man,  powers  of  heaven,  earth,  and  hell  were 
struggling   for   masterdom.     The   stunted   willows   and   sedgy 
watercourses,  the  flags  and  reeds,  would  often  echo  back  the 


ANCESTRY,    FAMILY,    AND    EARLY    DAYS.  45 

mourning  words,  "  Oh,  wretched  man  tliat  1  mn  !"  What 
conception  had  he  of  the  course  lying  before  liiui  ?  What 
knowledge  had  he  of  the  intentions  of  Providence  concerning 
him  ?  Life  lay  before  him  all  in  shadow.  For  fifteen  years  he 
appears  to  have  had  no  other  concern  than  "  to  know  Christ 
and  the  power  of  Ilis  resurrection,  and  the  fellowship  of  His 
sufferings."  But,  then,  it  would  be  scarcely  other  than  possi- 
ble to  hear,  from  news  and  scattered  report,  how  one  and  an- 
other of  God's  faithful  servants  were  shut  up  in  prison,  fined, 
pilloried,  and  persecuted  to  banishment  and  death,  without 
additional  anguish  to  the  severe  torture  of  the  mind  crying  for 
salvation  ;  nor  would  it  be  possible  to  hear  of  successive  tyran- 
nic exactions  and  impositions,  of  libidinousness,  intemperance 
at  Court  and  throughout  the  country,  without  wonder,  too, 
where  all  this  should  end.  Men  called  and  ordained  bv  God  to 
great  actions  have  strong  presentiments  and  mental  foreshadow- 
ings  ;  and  thus  Cromwell  would  be  probably  visited  by  mys- 
terious intimations  that  he  was,  in  some  way,  to  solve  the 
mighty  riddle  of  the  kingdom's  salvation.  But  how  ?  What 
madness  to  dream  it  !     How  ? 

Nor  nmst  we  forget  that  during  these  years  Cromwell  bad 
many  times  renewed  the  joys  and  anxieties  of  a  father  ;  indeed, 
all  his  children  were  born  before  he  emerged  from  the  fen 
country  into  public  life.     They  were  as  follows  : 

Robert,  his  first-born,  baptized  13th  October,  1621. 

Oliver,  baptized  6th  of  February,  1623.  He  was  killed  in 
battle  early  in  the  civil  war.  The  Protector  alluded  to  him  on 
his  death-bed  :  "  It  went  to  my  heart  like  a  dagger  ;  indeed 
it  did." 

Bridget,  baptized  4th  of  August,  1624.  She  was  married  to 
Ireton,  and  after  Ireton's  death  to  Fleetwood  ;  and  died  at 
Stoke  Newington,  near  London,  1681. 

Richard,  born  4th  of  October,  1626.  Him  Carlyle  calls  "  a 
poor  idle  triviality." 

Henry,  baptized  20th  July,  1628. 

Elizabeth,  baptized  2d  July,  1G20:. 


46  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

All  tlie  above  children  were  born  at  Huntingdon  ;  the  fol- 
lowing at  St.  Ives  and  Ely  : 

James,  baptized  8th  January,  1631  ;  died  next  day. 

Mary,  baptized  at  Huntingdon,  3d  February,  1636. 

Francis,  baptized  at  Ely,  6th  December,  1638.  "  Preaching 
there,  praying  there,  he  passed  his  days  solacing  persecuted 
ministers,  and  sighing  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul." 

In  all,  five  sons  and  four  daughters  ;  of  whom  three  sons, 
and  all  the  daughters,  came  to  maturity  at  Ely  ;  for  about  1638 
Cioiuvvell,  probably,  removed  tu  Ely.  His  uncle,  Sir  Thomas, 
resided  there.  His  mother's  relatives — those  of  them  who  were 
left — were  there  ;  and  now  his  mother  herself  removed  there, 
probably  with  the  idea  of  there  terminating  her  days  in  the 
presence  of  first  impressions  and  associations.  The  time  draws 
nigh  for  Oliver  to  leave  his  silence,  his  lonely  wanderings  to 
and  fro,  his  plannings,  and  his  doublings.  The  storm  is  up  in 
England,  and  Oliver  has  become  a  marked  man  ;  he  probably 
knows  that  he  will  have  to  take  a  prominent  part  in  the  affairs 
of  the  kino;dom.  Halt  we  awhile  to  reflect  on  this.  This  ob- 
scure  man,  lone  English  farmer,  untited,  unwealthy,  no  grace 
of  manner  to  introduce  himself,  ungainly  in  speech  and  in 
action,  unskilled  in  war,  unused  to  the  arts  of  courts  and  the 
cabals  of  senates  and  legislators — this  man  whose  life  had 
passed  altogether  with  farmers  and  religious-minded  men — was, 
at  almost  a  bound,  to  leap  to  the  highest  place  in  the  people's 
army,  grasping  the  baton  of  the  marshal.  This  man  was  to 
strike  the  successful  blows  on  the  field,  shivering  to  pieces  the 
kingly  j)ower  in  the  land — himself  was  to  assume  the  truncheon 
of  the  Dictator  ;  was  to  sketch  the  outline  of  laws,  of  home 
and  foreign  policy,  which  all  succeeding  legislators  were  to  at- 
tempt to  embody  and  imitate  ;  was  to  wring  concessions  to  his 
power"  from  the  most  haughty  monarchies  of  ancient  feudal 
Europe,  and  to  bear  up,  in  arms,  England,  fast  dwindling  into 
contempt,  to  the  very  foremost  place  among  the  nations  ;  was 
to  produce  throughout  the  world  homage  to  the  Protestant  re- 
ligion, making  before  his  name   the   fame  and  terror  of  Gus- 


ANCESTRY,    FAMILY,    AND    EARLY    DAYS.  4'? 

tavus,  of  Heniy  IV.,  of  Zisca,  to  dwindle  and  look  pale.  And 
this  with  no  prestige  of  birth  or  education.  I-i  it  too  much, 
then,  to  call  him  the  most  royal  actor  Eniilaml,  if  not  the 
world,  has  produced  ? 

Notice,  also,  that  when  he  was  at  Cambridge  he  won  some 
money  at  gambling  :  £20,  £50,  £100.  All  these  sums  now 
were  returned  as  moneys  upon  no  principle  his  own.  Here, 
too,  is  a  letter  of  this  Huntingdon  time,  just  before  the  busy 
world  called  him  a^vay,  giving  a  glim[)se  of  the  man  : 

"  Jb  my  beloved  cousin,  Mrs,  St.  John,  at    William  Masham^ 
his  house,  called  Otes,  in  £ssex. — Present  these. 

"  Ely,  13th  October,  1638. 
"  Dear  Cousin, — 

"  I  thankfully  acknowledge  your  love  in  your  kind  remem- 
brance of  me  upon  this  opportunity.  Alas  !  you  too  highly 
prize  my  lines  and  my  company.  I  maybe  ashamed  to  own 
your  expressions,  considering  how  unprofitable  I  am,  and  the 
mean  improvement  of  my  talent. 

"  Yet  to  honor  my  God  by  declaring  what  He  hath  done  for 
my  soul,  in  this  I  am  confident,  and  1  will  be  so.  Truly,  then, 
this  I  find,  that  He  giveth  springs  in  a  dry,  barren  wilderness, 
where  no  water  is.  I  live,  you  know  wher(; — in  Meshec,  which 
they  say  means  prolonging — in  Kedar,  which  signifies  black- 
ness ;  yet  the  Lord  forsaketh  me  not.  Though  Ho  do  pro- 
long, yet  He  will,  I  trust,  bring  me  to  His  tabernacle,  to  Hia 
resting-place.  My  soul  is  with  the  congregation  of  the  first- 
born ;  my  body  rests  in  hope  ;  and  if  here  I  may  honor  my 
God,  either  by  doing  or  by  suffering,  1  shall  be  most  glad. 

"  Truly  no  poor  creature  hath  more  cause  to  put  himself 
forth  in  the  cause  of  God  than  1.  I  have  had  plentiful  wages 
beforehand  ;  and  T  am  sure  I  shall  never  earn  the  least  mite. 
The  Lord  accept  me  in  His  Son,  and  give  me  to  walk  in  the 
light,  as  He  is  the  light  I  He  it  is  that  onlightcncth  our  black- 
ness, our  darkness.  I  dare  not  say  He  hidcth  His  face  from 
me.     He  giveth  me  to  see  light  in  His  light.     One  beam  in  fi 


48  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

dark  place  hath  exceeding  much  refreshment  in  it.  Blessed  be 
His  name  for  shining  upon  so  dark  a  heart  as  mine  !  You 
know  what  my  manner  of  life  hath  been.  Oh,  I  lived  in,  and 
loved  darkness,  and  hated  light  !  I  was  a  chief,  the  chief  of 
sinners.  This  is  true  ;  1  hated  godliness,  yet  God  had  mercy 
on  me.  Oh,  the  richness  of  His  mercy  !  Praise  Him  for  me 
— pray  for  me,  that  He  who  hath  begun  a  good  work  would 
perfect  it  in  the  day  of  Christ." 

Notice,  also,  that  those  latest  years  of  James  and  first  years 
of  Charles  were  the  period  when  the  cruel  persecution  proceed- 
ing in  England  drove  the  first  emigrants  away  into  the  Ameri- 
can wilderness,  there  to  found  the  old  Massachusetts  Colony  ; 
they  left  their  homes  and  country,  willing  to  encounter  the  pri- 
vations and  dangers  of  the  distant  wilderness,  hoping  there  to 
find  a  rest   and  refuge  for  outraged  religion  and   humanity. 
Those  were  the  days  commemorated  by  the  Plymouth  Rock — 
the  first  settlers  in  Salem,  and  the  growth  of  Lynn.      We  refer 
to  this  especially,  because  tradition  says  that  on  the  1st  of  May 
1638,  eight  ships,  bound   for   New   England,    and   filled  with 
Puritan  families,  were  arrested  and  interrupted  in  the  Thames 
by  an  order  from  the  king,  and  that  among  their  passengers  in 
one   of    those   vessels   were   Pym,   Hampden,    Cromwell,    and 
Hazelrig.      Mr.  John  Forster  doubts  this,  but  cannot  disprove 
it.     Our   own   impression   is   that  these   master   patriots  were 
probably  on  board  ;  that  they   did  not  intend  to  desert  their 
country,  in  whose  existence  and  future  they  had  too  large  an 
interest,  but  that  they  #^ere  on  a  voyage  of  discovery,  partly  to 
sympathize  with  the  exiles,  and  partly  to  obtain  some  knowl- 
edge for  future  possibilities.     The  rumor  seems  to  be  too  ex- 
tended to  be  altogether  unfounded. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Cromwell's  contemporaries  :  sir  john  eliot. 

We'  are  desirous  to  set  before  our  readers,  not  only  the 
character  of  Cioinwell  himself,  but  of  those  contemporaries 
who  also  wrought  out  with  him  the  work  of  national  salvation  ; 
among  these,  and  especially  those  who  may  be  termed  the 
great  heralds  and  precursors  of  what  may  be  called  more 
strictly  the  Cromwell  period,  no  name  is  more  eminent  than 
that  of  John  Eliot.  He  is  really  the  Elijah  of  the  Revolution, 
and  his  was  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness,  "  Pre- 
pare ye  the  way."  His  bold,  courageous,  and  ardent  spirit 
went  before,  and  he  anticipated  the  great  impeachments  of 
Pym  and  the  great  victories  of  Cromwell.  It  is  only  recently 
that  he  has  been  restored  to  the  high  place  in  popular  regard 
and  memory,  from  whence  he  had  passed  almost  into  obscurity, 
until  Mr.  John  Forster  first  published  his  brief  life,  more  than 
thirty  years  since,  in  his  "  Statesmen  of  the  Commonwealth," 
and  afterward  expanded  the  sketch  into  the  two  handsome  vol- 
umes which  now  so  pleasantly  embalm  the  name  and  memory, 
the  words  and  works  and  sufferings,  we  may  add,  the  martyr- 
dom, of  John  Eliot.  He  was  born  in  1590,  a  Cornishman,  but 
on  the  banks  of  the  Tamar,  in  the  town  of  St.  Germains, 
which,  however,  does  not  appear  to  have  been  more  than  a 
poor  little  straggling  village  of  fishermen.  Travelling  on  the 
Continent,  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham, the  favorite  of  James  I.  Perhaps  the  acquaintance  was 
not  very  intimate  or  very  deep  ;  it  seems  likely,  however, 
that  to  it  Eliot  owed  his  position  of  Vice-Admiral  of  Devon. 
When,  however,  Eliot  entered  into  public  life,  the  opinions  and 
careers  of  the  two  men  were  so  divergent,  that  it  is  probable 
that,  by  his  great  impeachment  of  the  Duke,  Eliot  would  have 


50  OLIVER  CUOMWELL. 

taken  away  his  head  had  not  Felton's  lance  anticipated  the 
headsman's  stroke. 

Eliot  entered  Parliament  in  his  twenty-fourth  year  as  mem- 
ber for  the  borough  of  St.  Germains,  and  he  found  himself  in 
company  with  some  of  the  men  whose  names  were  to  be  allied 
with  his  own  in  working  out  the  English  redemption.  John 
Hampden,  three  or  four  years  younger  than  Eliot,  had  not  yet 
finished  his  studies  in  the  Inner  Temple  ;  but  there  were  Pym, 
Philips,  Sir  Edward  Joel,  Sir  Edward  Sands,  and  Whitelock, 
and,  amphibiously  bowing  about,  but  scarcely  giving  a  hint  of 
the  vast  space  he  was  to  fill  by  his  power  in  the  future,  Sir 
Thomas  Wentworth,  soon  afterward  created  Earl  of  Strafford. 
Buckingham  was  the  favorite — the  most  unprincipled  of  favor- 
ites, but  Lord  High  Admiral  of  England.  And  here  we  are 
most  likely  to  discover  the  cause  of  Eliot's  elevation  to  the 
Vice-Admiralty  of  Devon.  The  Duke,  probably,  soon  found 
that  he  had  made  a  mistake  in  the  appointment  of  Eliot  to  this 
post.  The  western  coast  was  ravaged  by  pirates,  and  Eliot 
does  not  appear  to  have  understood  that  it  was  quite  possible 
for,  perhaps  almost  expected  that,  the  admiral  and  the  pirate, 
especially  if  he  were  an  English  pirate,  should  understand  each 
other.  Not  only  Turkish  rovers  swept  round  our  seas,  but 
wild,  lawless,  dissolute  Englishmen,  bold  bravadoes  capable  of 
every  crime,  who,  when  they  were  wearied  and  foiled  in  their 
adventures  upon  Spanish  dollars  and  doubloons,  varied  the 
pleasantry  of  their  occupation  by  more  homely  and  less  toil- 
some endeavors,  seizing  our  own  merchant  ships,  surprising  and 
pouncing  upon  villages  and  small  towns  along  the  coast,  and, 
in  innumerable  ways,  creating  a  fear  and  a  dread  on  the  land 
and  on  the  sea.  What  seems  most  marvellous  to  us  now.  is 
that  such  men  should  be  frequently  shielded  and  patronized  by 
Government,  or  Government  favorites,  for  their  own  ends  and 
purposes  ! 

This  was  the  case,  just  then,  with  one  who  had  obtained  the 
most  infamous  distinction,  Captain  John  Nutt,  one  of  the  most 
daring  sea-devils  of  that  lawless  time.      He  was  an  untakable 


SIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :   SIR   JOHJT   ELIOT.  51 

man,  and  he  had  several  pirate  ships.  He  commenced  his 
career  as  gunner  of  a  vessel  in  Dartmouth  harbor  bound  for  the 
Newfoundland  seas.  Coming  to  Newfoundland,  he  collected  a 
crew  of  pleasant  fellows  like  himself  ;  they  seized  a  French 
ship,  also  a  large  Plymouth  ship,  then  a  Flemish  ship,  and, 
with  these  gay  rovers,  he  played  off  his  depredations  on  the 
fishing  craft  of  the  Newfoundland  seas,  and  came  back,  too 
strong  for  capture,  to  the  western  coasts  of  England.  Arrived 
there,  this  worthy  played  off  new  devilries  :  he  tempted  men 
from  the  king's  service  by  the  promises  of  higher  wages,  and 
— what  alas  I  might  easily  be  promised  in  those  dreary  days, 
more  certain  payment  ;  he  hung  about  Torbay,  laughed  at 
threats,  scoffed  at  promises  of  pardon,  although  more  than  one 
offer  had  been  made  conditionally.  The  whole  western  coun- 
try was  in  a  state  of  dread,  and  municipalities  poured  their 
entreaties  upon  the  council  and  upon  Eliot  in  his  office  of  Vice- 
Admiral.  What  did  it  all  avail  ?  Capture  seemed  a  mere 
dream,  a  hopeless  thing.  Sometimes  he  touched  the  shore,  and, 
as  was  the  wont  with  those  bold  fellows,  when  he  did  so,  he  was 
fond  of  exhibiting  himself  in  the  dress  of  the  men  he  had  plun- 
dered. The  mind  of  Eliot  was  moved  at  these  things.  Sir 
George  Calvert,  a  great  Court  favorite,  had  interests  in  New- 
foundland ;  to  him  Nutt  was  necessary,  and  he  appears  to  have 
obtained  pardons  for  the  pirate.  Copies  of  the  pardons  were 
issued  to  Eliot — it  was  his  design  to  make  the  pardons  useless  ; 
he  was  bound  on  capturing  the  pirate,  but  the  pirate  was  too 
wary  for  the  admiral.  At  last  he  had  recourse  to  negotiation  ; 
but  even  while  the  negotiation  for  submission  was  in  progress, 
Nutt  made  it  still  further  unavailing  by  the  capture  of  a  rich 
Colchester  ship  with  a  cargo  of  sugar  and  timber.  Eliot  imme- 
diately insisted  that  this  should  be  given  up  ;  the  daring  pirate 
was  indignant  at  the  command  ;  and  now  Eliot  became  yet 
more  crafty.  But  how  remarkable  is  all  this  as  illustrating  the 
state  of  the  times,  that  only  the  admiral  should  have  been  in 
earnest  to  take  the  man,'  and  he  had  to  represent  to  the  Gov- 
ernment  how   ill-deserved   pardon   and   grace   to   such   a  man 


52  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

would  be  ;  that  during  the  period  of  three  months  since  the  par- 
don had  been  issued,  this  lively  specimen  of  an  ancient  British 
sailor  had  occupied  his  time  in  committing  depredations  and 
spoils  on  the  coast,  in  one  week  had  taken  ten  or  twelve  ships, 
and  while  the  pardon  was  in  negotiation,  had  seized  the  Col- 
chester brig  with  a  freightage  of  £4000  !  In  the  end,  how- 
ever, Eliot  did  manage  to  get  possession  of  him.  He  seized 
Nutt's  ship,  took  down  her  sails,  and  put  a  guard  on  board 
her,  and  then  wrote  to  the  Council,  waiting  to  hear  in  what 
way  he  was  to  deal  with  the  pirate  and  the  men.  The  pirate 
was  more  powerful  than  the  admiral.  Buccaneers,  and  espe- 
cially such  a  buccaneer  as  Nutt — an  immensely  wealthy  man,  a 
daring,  resolute,  and  serviceable  man — had  friends  at  Court, 
especially,  as  we  have  seen,  a  friend  in  Calvert.  It  is  marvel- 
lous to  relate,  that  Nutt  was  permitted  to  become  the  accuser 
of  the  admiral — the  admiral  who  had  been  first  congratulated 
by  Conway,  the  Secretary  of  State,  for  his  daring  and  magnani- 
mous conduct,  and  who  had  been  told  by  letter  that  he  was  to 
receive  the  kincj's  thanks  and  to  kiss  the  kind's  hand  in 
acknowledgment  of  his  rescue  of  the  western  counties  and  seas 
from  Nutt's  piracy,  plunder,  and  murder.  That  admiral,  our 
readers  will  understand,  for  that  very  transaction  of  seizing  that 
pirate,  the  month  following,  lay  in  the  Marshalsea  prison  upon 
some  frivolous  pretences  ;  while  the  happy  and  blithe-hearted 
pirate  and  plunderer  stepped  forth  with  a  free  and  uncondi- 
tional pardon,  to  renew  his  pleasant  adventures  on  the  seas. 
Of  course  there  had  to  seem  some  pretext  of  law  for  this  ;  but 
law,  in  the  person  of  the  Chief  Justice,  Sir  Ilenry  Marten,  soon 
shrivelled  up  all  these  pretexts.  Sir  John  Eliot,  indeed,  did 
escape  from  prison  and  from  all  punishment,  but  not  with  such 
flying  colors  as  Nutt,  "  that  unlucky  fellow,  Captain  Nutt," 
as  Sir  George  Calvert  called  him,  poor  penitent  pirate  !  ^^liat- 
ever  Nutt  said,  what  protestations  he  made,  we  know  not  ;  a 
shaggy  black  dog  like  that  making  a  clean  breast  of  it  is  a 
queer  picture  to  us.  "  This  poor  man,"  says  Sir  George,  "  is 
able  to  do  the  king  service  if  he  be  employed,  and  I  dp  assure 


HIS    CONTEMPORARIES  :    SIR   JOHN^    ELIOT.  53 

myself  he  doth  so  detest  his  former  course  of  life,  he  will  never 
enter  on  it  ao;ain."  So  the  Vice- Admiral  of  Devon  was 
weighed  in  the  scales  against  a  freebooter  of  the  seas,  and 
found  wanting  !  The  whole  man  seems  to  come  out  in  the  in- 
dignant truthfulness  running  through  Sir  John's  letter.  Nay, 
the  admiral  was  to  pay  a  fine  of  £100  to  the  pirate  for  his  ship 
and  goods  seized  ;  but  here  the  admiral  was  tough.  One  of 
the  officers  writes  to  their  lordships  of  the  Government,  while 
Sir  John  continues  in  prison  :  "  So  may  it  please  your  lord- 
ships, Sir  John  won't  pay  ;  so  that  your  lordships'  order  is 
very  much  slighted,  and  nothing  at  all  regarded."  He 
escaped  from  prison,  however,  as  the  pirate  escaped — by  royal 
favor  and  State  protection — from  the  gallows  Eliot  had  erected 
for  him. 

This  is  not  the  last  we  hear  of  Mr.  Nutt.  That  penitent 
person  achieved  still  greater  fame  than  before  on  the  seas,  and 
became,  say  the  records,  the  most  incomparable  nuisance  in 
all  his  majesty's  dominions.  Nothing  on  the  seas  was  safe 
from  him.  At  last.  Captain  Plumleigh  was  sent  to  the  Irish 
seas  to  seek  him  and  to  take  him.  Nutt  met  the  captain  with 
twenty-seven  Turks,  gave  the  captain  chase,  and,  had  he  not 
fled  into  harbor,  would  have  sunk  his  ship.  This  encouraged 
the  penitent  pirate  to  still  further  magnanimities  ;  he  struck  at 
the  very  highest  game,  and  when  Lord  Wentworth  sent  over  to 
Ireland — to  which  country  he  was  himself  gomg  as  the  Lord- 
Lieutenant — a  ship  full  of  luggage,  furniture,  wardrobe,  plate, 
etc.,  essential  to  his  station,  Nutt  seized  the  whole.  Went- 
worth was  the  intimate  friend  and  counsellor  of  the  king,  and 
also  the  intimate  friend  of  that  Sir  George  Calvert  who  had 
saved  Nutt's  bull-neck  from  its  legitimate  twisting  some  years 
before  ;  but,  as  we  do  not  read  that  Nutt  made  restitution 
when  these  little  particulars  were  discovered,  perhaps  he  did 
not  the  less  enjoy  his  prize.  We  believe  he  reached  a  happy 
and  honored  old  age,  and  died  comfortably,  as  a  man  deserved 
to  do  who  availed  himself  of  the  facilities  afforded  by  those  times 
when  "  every  man  did  that  which  was  right  in  his  own  eyes," 


54  OLIVER    CEOMWELL. 

This  exercise  of  prerogative  with  which  Eliot  came  immedi- 
ately into  collision,  would  not  he  likely  to  incline  him  to  look 
patiently  upon  the  successive  attempts  of  royal  rapacity. 

It  was  through  Sir  John  Eliot,  very  eminently,  that  the 
Commons  and  the  Stuarts  came  at  last  to  their  great  rupture. 
James  I.  heartily  desired  alliance  with  Spain  by  the  marriage 
of  the  Prince  of  Wales  with  the  Infanta,  and  when  the  negoti- 
ations were  broken  off,  the  nation  manifested  its  hearty  sympa- 
thy by  a  great  outburst  of  joy.  Then  came  the  contest  with 
the  stubborn  old  king  upon  the  privilege  of  debate  in  Parlia- 
ment. The  king  said  the  Parliament  held  their  liberties  by 
toleration,  not  by  right  ;  and  when  the  House  recorded  its  very 
different  conviction  in  a  resolution  on  its  journals,  the  imbecile 
old  king  came  up  from  Theobald's  in  a  passion,  got  together  a 
privy  council,  and  six  of  the  judges,  sent  for  the  Commons' 
journal,  and  even  dared  to  tear  out  the  registry.  He  then  in- 
stantly dissolved  the  House  by  proclamation,  and  wound  up  the 
arduous  labors  of  the  day  by  tumbling  off  his  horse  into  the 
New  River.  It  was  winter — December  weather — the  ice  broke, 
so  that  nothing  but  his  boots  were  seen,  which  mishap  was  a 
pretty  diagram  of  that  representative  Stuart.  Then  came  the 
coquetting  with  popery,  and  the  disastrous  marriage  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales  with  Henrietta  Maria.  Tiien  also  came 
James's  last  Parliament  of  1623-4,  in  which  Eliot  was  member 
for  Newport.  The  intense  Protestantism  of  the  country  longed 
to  interfere  to  help  the  Protestants  of  the  Continent,  and  espe- 
ciall}'^  to  be  at  war  with  Spain.  "Are  we  indeed  poor?" 
asked  Eliot,  about  this  time  in  a  memorable  debate  in  the 
House.  "Be  it  so  ;  Spain  is  rich.  We  will  make  that  our 
Indies.  Break  with  her,  and  we  shall  break  with  our  necessi- 
ties also."  Supplies  were  voted  to  meet  the  necessities  of  the 
coast-guard  defence,  as  well  as  for  warlike  equipments.  Then 
bonfires  blazed  to  the  very  doors  of  the  Spanish  embassy,  and 
all  the  world  in  the  city  ran  into  debt  for  fagots  and  gallons 
of  wine.  "  The  Spaniards,"  said  aristocratic  Wentworth, 
afterward  Strafford,  "  were  insulted,  to  the  great  joy  of  all  the 


HIS    CONTEMPORARIES  :   SIR  JOHN   ELIOT.  55 

cobblers  and  other  bigots  and  zealous  brethren  of  the  town." 
Still  went  on  the  game  of  imposition  by  prerogative.  Mis- 
chievous monopolies  sprang  into  existence.  Large  traders  were 
beggared  by  the  actions  of  the  Government,  and  the  merchant 
shipping  of  the  country  had  fallen  away  to  an  alarming  extent. 
Many  of  the  exports  most  in  demand  had  been  diminished  more 
than  half.  The  Government  in  truth  plundered  its  subjects 
and  robbed  itself. 

The  old  king  died,  and  his  death  was  followed  by  a  sense  of 
relief  and  hope.  But  the  new  reign  brought  no  relief,  and  the 
hope  was  soon  dissipated.  At  this  time  there  existed  in  England 
many  of  the  same  fearful  indications  which  were  the  preludes  of 
the  subsequent  French  Revolution  ;  while  the  people  were 
starving  beneath  the  weight  of  oppression  and  forced  loans,  so 
that  for  the  first  twelve  years  of  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  scarcely 
any  one  dared  to  call  his  property  his  own,  and  a  morning  never 
rose  upon  an  English  family  which  was  not  dreaded  as  the  pos- 
sible herald  of  some  new  oppression,  it  is  quite  curious,  and 
moves  to  a  natural  indignation,  to  notice  the  enormous  suras 
expended  by  the  king  on  diamonds,  jewels,  and  chains  of  gold, 
either  for  himself  or  for  personal  presents.  We  read  of 
£10,400  paid  to  one  William  Rogers,  a  goldsmith  ;  we  read  of 
£10,000  paid  to  Philip  Jacobson,  a  jeweller,  for  a  ring,  etc.  ; 
we  read  of  £2000  paid  to  Henry  Garway,  Esq.,  for  one  large 
thick  table  diamond  ;  we  read  of  £8000  paid  to  Sir  Manrill 
Abbott  for  a  diamond  set  in  a  collar  of  gold  ;  and  in  fact,  there 
lie  before  us  a  long  catalogue  of  similar  items,  indicating  the 
reckless  extravagance  of  the  king.  It  is  almost  the  anticipa- 
tion of  the  story  of  the  diamond  necklace  with  natural  differ- 
ences ;  and  meantime  the  people  were  crushed  down  beneath 
cruel  exactions  to  satisfy  the  cost  of  these  playthings.  The 
great  guide  of  State,  Buckingham,  continued  the  game,  and 
soon  was  manifested  the  same  arbitrary  misrule.  The  Parlia- 
ment puisued  its  way,  determined  from  session  to  session  to 
maintain  its  strength  and  its  integrity.  Meantime,  early  in  the 
reign,  the  laws  against  Puritan  Dissent  began  to  be  pressed 


66  OLIVER    CROMAVELL. 

with  eager  severity,  and  Laud  was  active  in  liis  bad  business  of 
superstitious  bigotry.  Looking  back  upon  these  times,  they 
seem  sad,  black,  and  desolate  ;  the  plague  ravaged  tlie  metrop- 
olis, the  deaths  averaging  about  five  thousand  a  week.  The 
city  was  empty,  grass  was  growing  in  the  street  ;  and  Lily,  the 
astrologer,  going  to  prayers  to  St.  Antholin's,  in  Watling 
Street,  from  a  house  over  the  Strand  Bridge,  between  six  and 
seven  in  a  summer  morning  of  the  month  of  July,  testifies  that 
so  few  people  were  then  alive,  and  the  streets  so  unfrequented, 
he  met  only  three  persons  in  the  way.  And  then  came  the 
debate  on  the  Tonnage  and  Poundage  Bill,  and  the  king  and 
Buckingham  pursued  their  bad  path.  Sir  Humphrey  May,  the 
Chancellor,  sought  the  mediation  of  the  popular  and  powerful 
member.  Sir  John  Eliot,  to  attempt  to  bring  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham  to  a  sense  of  reason.  It  was  a  strange  interview. 
He  came  to  York  House,  and  found  the  duke  with  the  duchess 
yet  in  bed  ;  but  notice  having  been  given  of  his  coming,  the 
duchess  rose  and  withdrew  to  her  cabinet,  and  he  was  let  in. 
"  Ourselves,"  says  Mr.  Forster,  "  admitted  also  to  this  strange 
interview,  the  curtain  of  the  past  is  uplifted  for  us  at  a  critical 
time." 

"  Judging  the  present  moment  of  time  by  what  we  now 
know  to  have  followed  it,  will  it  be  too  much  to  say  that  if 
Eliot  could  have  prevailed  with  Buckingham,  and  if  the  result 
had  been  that  better  understanding  between  the  Parliament  and 
the  Court  which  he  desired  to  establish,  the  course  of  English 
history  might  have  been  changed.  To  Charles's  quarrel  with 
his  first  Parliament,  Clarendon  ascribes  all  the  troubles  of  his 
reign  ;  and  now  the  good  or  the  ill  understanding,  publicly,  is 
to  date  from  this  day.  What  privately  is  to  flow  from  its  two 
hours'  conference,  not  only  to  the  men  sitting  in  that  bed- 
chamber of  York  House,  but  to  the  royal  master  whom  they 
would  both  have  served,  will  not  have  exhausted  itself  for 
many  years.  It  will  not  have  closed  when  Buckingham's 
wretched  death  has  come.  When  Eliot  sinks  beneath  the 
king's  unrelenting  persecution  of  his  favorite's  fiercest  assailant, 


HIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :   SIR   JOHN"   ELIOT.  57 

it  will  be  working  still.  Not  until  the  harsli  perseciition  of 
Eliot  is  remembered  and  put  forth  in  later  years  to  justify  the 
harshness  dealt  out  to  an  imprisoned  king,  will  the  cycle  of 
wrong  and  retribution  be  complete  that  this  day  begins." 

Eliot  used  what  argument  he  could,  and  he  has  told  his  own 
story  of  the  interview,  with  the  tremendous  discovery  of  Buck- 
ingham listening  impatiently,  and  then  letting  fall  a  hasty 
word,  so  that  the  whole  truth  flashed  upon  him  that  the  suc- 
cess of  the  Tonnage  and  Poundage  Bill  was  not  so  much  de- 
sired as  reasonable  ground  for  quarrel.  "  The  proposition 
must  proceed  without  consideration  of  success,  wherein  was 
lodged  this  project  merelie  to  be  denied."  "For  the  pres- 
ent," Eliot  concludes,  "  this  observation  of  Buckingham  gave 
that  gentleman  [himself]  some  wonder  with  astonishment; 
who  with  the  seals  of  privacie  closed  up  those  passages  in 
silence  ;  yet  thereon  grounded  his  observations  for  the  future, 
that  noe  respect  of  persons  made  him  [Eliot]  desert  his  coun- 
trie." 

During  the  recess  of  1625,  Eliot  travelled  to  the  West.  As 
he  passed  along,  news  reached  him  of  the  cruel  mischief  in- 
flicted by  Turkish  pirates,  who,  from  under  forts  and  castles 
left  helpless  and  unguarded,  sprung  on  English  ships.  The 
western  sea,  with  all  the  villages  lining  its  coasts,  was  entirely 
at  their  mercy  ;  all  trade  was  interrupted,  and  the  number  of 
Christians  captured  to  be  sold  into  slavery  during  the  outrages 
of  three  months  could  not  be  less  than  twelve  hundred.  There 
were  wailings  for  fathers  and  sons,  for  brothers,  for  husbands 
and  wives.  Meantime,  the  ships  of  the  nation  lay  in  harbor, 
men  and  provisions  on  board,  and  Government  careless  of  the 
inflictions  on  its  subjects.  Eliot  also  first  became  acquainted 
with  the  treason  meditated  against  the  Protestants  of  Rocliellc, 
for  which  the  sums  granted  by  Parliament  for  the  defence  of 
Protestant  interests  were  diverted,  to  crush  them.  It  is  a  story 
which  covers  the  Government  of  Charles  I.  with  ignominy,  and 
renews  feelings  of  bitter  execration  ;  while  yet  it  is  one  of  the 
proudest  stories  of  English  magnanimity.     It  scarcely  needs  to 


58  OLIVER   CEOMWELL. 

recite  that  tale,  whicli  must  be  fresh  in  the  recollections  of  all 
who  are  proud  of  their  country.  The  French  Government  was 
maintaining  a  struggle  against  the  Huguenots  of  Rochelle. 
They  were  very  unequal  to  the  conflict,  but  they  were  brave 
and  determined.  The  free  town  of  Rochelle  had  become  the 
stronghold  of  Protestantism,  and  Richelieu  determined  to 
crush  it.  He  was  scarcely  equal  to  the  work  ;  the  place  was 
strong  and  important — it  was,  in  fact,  a  kind  of  little  republi- 
can Hanse  town.  A  clause  in  the  marriage  treaty  of  France 
with  England,  on  account  of  Cliarlcs  and  Henrietta  Maria,  pro- 
vided that  eight  ships — men-of-war — should  be  placed  by  Eng- 
land at  the  disposal  of  France  when  claimed.  It  was  a  rather 
prompt  demand,  but  a  lucky  thought  induced  Richelieu  to  ask 
for  them  now  to  serve  his  purpose  upon  Rochelle.  Upon  this, 
Buckingham  and  the  king,  entirely  concealing  their  purpose 
from  the  Council,  pressed  seven  first-rate  merchantmen,  and 
sent  them  to  sea  under  the  command  of  Captain  Pennington, 
who  had  hoisted  his  flag  on  board  the  Vanguard  man-of-war. 

Neither  Pennington  nor  any  of  the  captains  knew  their  desti- 
nation ;  they  expected  they  were  to  act  against  Genoa,  or 
against  Italy.  The  tiling  was  far  enough  from  their  thoughts 
that  they  were  to  act  against  Protestantism,  and  there  was  a 
specific  understanding  that  the  ships  promised  were  not  to 
engage  in  the  civil  wars  of  the  French.  Arrived  in  the  Downs, 
Pennington  was  scandalized  to  find  that,  bv  an  order  from  the 
Admiralty,  he  was  placed  beneath  the  command  of  the  French 
ambassador,  who  was  to  exercise  power  over  the  whole  fleet. 
When  Pennington  discovered  the  deceit  practised  upon  him, 
and  suspected  that  he  was  to  be  used  against  the  Rochellois,  he 
wrote  in  piteous  terms  to  the  ministers  known  to  have  influence 
with  Buckingham,  imploring  mediation  with  the  king  and  sal- 
vation from  the  disgrace.  Meantime,  the  men  on  board  the 
Vanguard  and  the  other  ships  had  discovered  their  destination 
and  refused  to  fight  against  their  brother  Protestants.  They 
signed  a  round-robin,  and  placed  it,  where  they  knew  it  would 
meet  their  commander's  eye,  between  the  leaves  of  his  Bible. 


HIS   CONTEMPORAEIES  :    SIR   JOHN   ELIOT.  59 

The  brave  and  pious  sailor  waited  but  a  short  time  after  receiv- 
ing it  ;  he  brought  back  all  his  ships  to  the  English  coast. 
Arrived  there,  he  was  deceived  again  by  the  assurance  that 
there  was  to  be  peace  between  the  King  of  France  and  the 
Huguenots  ;  so  he  once  more  sailed  for  the  Dieppe  Roads, 
Conway,  the  Secretary,  too,  having  informed  Pennington,  from 
Buckingham,  that  the  command  of  the  fleet  was  to  be  alto- 
gether the  French  king's,  and  Pennington  was,  according  to 
his  majesty's  express  pleasure,  to  obey  entirely  the  command 
of  the  Admiral  of  France.  Again  all  these  pretences  proved 
to  be  without  foundation.  The  simple  facts  cannot  be  im- 
peached. There  is  extant  a  letter  of  Buckingham,  from  Paris, 
to  Charles,  in  which  he  says,  "  The  peace  with  them  of  this 
religion  depends- upon  the  success  of  the  fleet  they  [Richelieu] 
had  from  your  majesty  and  the  Low  Countries."  All  attempts 
are  vain  to  screen  the  minister  and  the  king.  There  was  a 
sclieme  first  to  get  the  fleet  into  a  French  harbor,  and  the  false 
instructions  to  Pennington  were  tbe  commencement.  Penning- 
ton wrote  direct  to  Buckingham,  imploring  his  Grace  to  recall 
him,  adding  that  he  would  rather  put  his  life  at  the  king's 
mercy  at  home,  than  go  forward  in  the  business,  and  that  he 
rather  desired  to  suffer  in  person  than  to  suffer  dishonor.  The 
answer  to  this  letter  was  a  peremptory  refusal  of  his  prayer. 
The  Duke  marvelled  that  he,  a  captain,  should,  upon  the  in- 
stance of  his  obedience  being  required,  ask  leave  to  withdraw  ! 
Still  he  was  told  not  to  fear  the  issue,  for  news  of  peace  be- 
tween the  French  king  and  his  subjects  was  not  far  off.  Pen- 
nington once  more  sailed,  but  he  reached  the  Dieppe  Roads 
alone  ;  the  merchant  captains  refused  to  follow  him  !  But  as 
yet  Government  officials  had  no  conception  of  the  intense  relig- 
ious feelings,  the  passionate,  Protestant  zeal  of  the  common 
people  of  England.  The  king  and  the  chief  minister  were 
insensible  to  it,  and  their  insensibility  proved  their  ruin. 
There  was  soon  a  religious  mutiny  on  board  the  Vanguard  ; 
the  crew  could  not  believe  the  ship  was  to  be  delivered  up  to 
the   French,    and  it   was  known   that  it   would  be   employed 


60  OLIVER   CROMWELL, 

against  the  Huguenots.  Pennington  declared  to  the  Secretary, 
Nicholas,  that  his  men  were  in  such  a  rage  that  they  swore 
nothing  should  prevent  their  carrying  away  the  ship  from  the 
roads,  and  so  indeed  news  came  that  the  Vanguard  was  under 
sail.  The  ship  left  the  roads  in  tempestuous  weather,  and 
returned  to  the  Downs.  From  the  English  coast  Pennington 
makes  a  manly  and  touching  appeal  :  he  relates  what  had 
passed  in  the  roads  at  Dieppe  ;  his  crew  had  returned  without 
acquainting  him — but  he  frankly  adds  that  he  knew  it,  and 
had  connived  at  it,  otherwise  they  would  never  have  done  it  ; 
and  he  declares  that  he  had  rather  live  on  bread  and  water  for 
the  rest  of  his  days  than  be  an  actor  in  that  business.  The  old 
artifices  were  again  employed.  Peace  was  to  be  made  with  the 
Protestants,  and  war  declared  with  Spain  and  Milan.  "  The 
king,"  Pennington  was  told,  "  was  extremely  offended  with 
him,"  and  if  he  desired  to  make  his  peace,  he  must  obey 
punctually.  Then  the  royal  warrant  followed,  formally  requir- 
ing Pennington  to  put  his  ship,  the  Vanguard,  and  all  the  other 
seven  ships,  with  their  equipage,  artillery,  and  ammunition, 
into  the  service  of  his  dear  brother,  the  "  most  Christian 
king"  ;  and  in  case  of  the  refusal  on  the  part  of  crews, 
commanding  him  and  the  others  to  use  all  means  possible  to 
compel  obedience,  "  even  to  the  sinking  of  the  ships."  "  See 
you  fail  not,"  are  the  closing  words  of  this  decisive  document, 
"  as  you  will  answer  to  the  contrary  at  your  utmost  peril." 

For  the  third  time  Pennington  took  his  Vanguard  into  the 
French  harbor,  and  with  him  went,  with  desperate  reluctance, 
the  seven  merchant  ships.  One  captain.  Sir  Fernando  Gorges, 
broke  through  and  returned,  learning  that  the  destination  of  the 
fleet  was  Rochelle.  Pennington  and  the  rest  doggedly  obeyed 
the  king's  warrant,  and  delivered  up  the  ships  and  their  stores 
without  their  creivs,  Pennington  declaring  that  he  would  rather 
be  hanged  in  England  for  disobedience,  than  fight  himself  or 
see  his  seamen  fight  against  their  brother  Protestants  of  France. 
He  quietly  looked  on  while  his  crews  deserted  ;  leaving  every 
ship,   including  his  own,  to   be  manned   by   Frenchmen,  and 


HIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :   SlR   JOHJST   ELlOT.  61 

came  back  to  set  himself  right  with  his  countrymen.  The 
Vanguard  hastened  away  to  liochelle,  and  her  cannons,  no 
longer  manned  by  English  crews,  accomplished  the  object  of 
the  "  martyr  king"  and  "  Defender  of  the  Protestant  Faith  !" 
— "  opening  fire  against  Rochelle,  and  mowing  down  the 
Huguenots  like  grass." 

These  were  the  sailors  of  those  days,  and  this  was  the  Eng- 
lish Government  of  those  days.  Surely  there  was  need  of 
men  like  Eliot  to  attempt  to  mend  this  wrong  doing  !  Thus 
the  money  voted  in  subsidies  by  the  brave  English  House  of 
Commons  to  defend  Protestantism  in  Europe,  was  squandered 
in  the  treacherous  attempt  to  crush  it.  Pennington,  upon  his 
arrival  in  England,  sent,  from  his  place  of  concealment,  his 
papers  to  Eliot,  that  he  might  have  at  once  the  means  of  vindi- 
catinir  him  to  Parliament,  which  vindication  would  also  be  the 
impeachment  of  the  Government.  After  a  brief  recess,  the 
House  reassembled,  burdened  with  many  grave  causes  of  grief. 
Puritans  were  being  cruelly  persecuted,  Jesuits  were  being  par- 
doned and  set  at  liberty,  and  the  state  of  the  people  every- 
where demanded  immediate  consideration.  Prerogative  was 
dancing  a  perfect  maniac  dance  through  the  country  ;  the  dues 
of  tonnage  and  poundage  were  actually  in  the  course  of  levy 
and  collection  without  any  grant  from  Parliament,  and  the  par- 
ties of  the  Court  and  the  people  became  more  decided  and  dis- 
tinct. The  demerits  and  defects  of  Buckingham,  now  espe- 
cially, became  daily  more  obvious,  and  roused  in  the  minds  of 
all  noble  Englishmen  growing  indignation.  AVe  has^e  already 
spoken  of  the  ascent  of  this  man  to  power — it  is  unlike  any- 
thing in  our  history  :  he  simply  had  the  grace  and  beauty  of  a 
woman,  without  a  woman's  prescience  and  tact.  He  delighted 
in  dependants  and  suitors,  never  got  beyond  the  Court,  and 
could  not  understand  the  people.  He  could  not  comprehend 
that  the  reign  of  favorites  was  passed,  and  the  reign  of  states- 
men begun  ;  and  that,  as  Eliot  says,  "  the  old  genius  of  the 
kingdom  is  reawakening."  Having  very  little  of  the  states- 
man himself,  he  seems  to  have  looked  Avith  covetous  eye  and 


62  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

hand  on  tbe  gains  of  tlie  buccaneer,  while  utterly  unpossessed 
of  the  buccaneer's  grasp  and  strength.  He  was  fond  of  a  show 
of  mystery,  and  kept  it  up,  as  Eliot  says,  "  with  scarce  a 
covering  for  his  ears,  supposing  his  whole  body  under 
shadow."  The  time  was  come  when  his  wild  outrages  on 
English  liberty  would  be  tolerated  no  longer.  In  speaking  of 
this  Parliament,  Phillipps,  one  of  its  most  accomplished  ora- 
tors, exclaimed  : 

"  England  is  the  last  monarchy  that  yet  retains  her  liberties. 
Let  them  not  perish  now.  Let  not  posterity  complain  that  we 
have  done  for  them  worse  than  oar  fathers  did  for  us.  Their 
precedents  are  the  safest  steps  we  tread  in.  Let  us  not  now 
forsake  them,  lest  their  fortunes  forsake  us.  Wisdom  and 
counsel  made  them,  happy,  and  the  like  causes  now  will  have 
for  us  the  like  effects." 

The  whole  House  was,  to  quote  the  words  of  Milton,  "  a 
grand  shop  of  war  ;"  anvils  and  hammers  kept  incessantly 
working  to  fashion  out  the  plates  and  instruments  of  armed 
justice  in  defence  of  beleaguered  truth  ;  and  if  the  House  were 
resolute  to  maintain  its  rights,  not  less  obstinate  was  the  king. 
Frequent  were  his  messages  to  stay  votes  and  censures,  and  this 
very  Parliament  was  in  this  way  dissolved.  Its  last  debate  was 
broken  in  upon  while  it  was  engaged  in  drawing  up  a  paper 
reminding  the  king  of  his  and  the  kingdom's  hazards — a 
respectful,  obedient,  and  loyal  paper,  warning  him  of  the  dan- 
ger of  holding  counsel  with  those  who  would  poison  his  ear 
against  it.  While  the  Chairman  was  reading  it,  and  the  House 
sitting  in  committee,  the  Black  Rod  was  heard  at  the  door. 
The  Speaker  rose  to  resume  his  chair,  and  admit  the  royal  mes- 
senger. There  w^as  a  general  shout,  "  No  !  no  !"  Other 
members  rose  to  prevent  him.  The  protest  was  put  to  the 
vote,  and  passed,  and  hastened  to  the  king,  who  immediately 
dissolved  the  House.  These  were  darintj  doino-s  for  a  voung 
king  not  yet  crowned  ;  but  he  had  Laud  by  his  side,  to  eke 
out  the  imbecility  of  Buckingham.  Parliament  was  dissolved. 
During  the  period  of  its  dissolution,  Eliot  was  active  in  the 


HIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :   SIR   JOHN   ELIOT.  63 

work  of  his  vice-admiralty,  engaged  in  the  fitting  out  and  sail- 
ing of  the  fleet  for  the  Cadiz  expedition.  The  levying  of  ton- 
nage and  poundage  still  went  on,  although  the  assent  had  been 
refused  to  the  Bill  which  would  have  made  the  levying  legal  ; 
and  Eliot's  father-in-law  was  pressed  upon  with  special  hard- 
ness to  meet  the  demands  of  one  of  the  Privy  Seals,  a  danger- 
ous application  of  an  old  expedient.  We  cannot  give  the  whole 
circumstances  connected  with  the  St.  .  Peter,  of  Newhaven. 
We  have  described  Buckingham  as  a  kind  of  courtly  bucca- 
neer ;  he  desired  b}'^  his  agents  to  seize  money  and  goods 
almost  anywhere  and  anyhow.  He  laid  a  hand  of  rapacity  on 
the  men  of  property  at  home,  and  he  seized,  without  any  legal 
expedient,  ri-ch  property  on  the  sea.  The  St.  Peter,  of  New- 
haven,  was  a  French  ship,  with  a  cargo  of  extraordinary  value, 
and  it  was  seized  by  the  Lord  High  Admiral  under  the  pretence 
of  her  carrying  Spanish  goods,  her  cargo  being  made  the  ob- 
ject of  plunder  and  extortion.  It  created  an  immense  excite- 
ment, for  of  course  France  instantly  made  sharp  reprisals. 
The  ships  of  English  merchants  were  seized  in  French  ports. 
Eliot,  upon  the  meeting  of  Parliament,  took  a  very  strong  and 
decided  position  upon  this  enormous  transaction,  denouncing 
not  only  the  wickedness  but  the  impolicy  of  making  an  enemy 
of  a  great  nation,  and  the  facts  lie  brought  out  in  successive 
examinations  were  startling.  The  St.  Peter  contained  silver, 
gold,  jewels  to  the  value  of  £40,000  sterling,  and,  without 
condemnation  from  any  judge  or  court,  was  stripped  and  car- 
ried up  to  the  Tower.  The  Duke's  conduct  was  not  more 
remarkable  in  the  exhibition  of  this  one  great  extortion  than 
were  the  minor  extortions  of  his  subordinates.  Upon  the  final 
decision  of  the  court  in  favor  of  the  ship,  by  which  it  was 
ordered  to  be  carried  back  and  legally  discharged,  the  favorite 
not  only  dared  to  detain  it  in  opposition  to  express  verdict,  but 
it  was  proved  that  his  subordinates  had  attempted  to  sell  to 
some  of  the  Frenchmen  who  were  losers  in  the  vessel  their  in- 
terest— as  much  as  £80  for  £5.  It  was  at  the  same  time,  too, 
that  the  Duke  won  a  perfect  holocaust  of  obloquy  for  the  fail- 


64  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

lire  of  the  great  Cadiz  expedition  ;  in  plain  words,  it  was  only 
an  attempt  to  fill  the  king's  coffers  bv  a  piratical  raid  on  the 
wealth  of  Spain.  The  expedition  consisted  of  ninety  sail, 
large  and  small  ships,  five  thousand  seamen  and  ten  thousand 
soldiers.  The  fleet  sailed,  but  it  failed,  and  there  fell  upon 
the  towns  of  the  West  of  England  a  great  disaster.  Hundreds 
of  seamen  and  soldiers  landed  at  Plymouth  in  a  dying  state, 
and  a  thousand  were  said  to  have  perished  at  sea  before  they 
entered  the  harbor.  For  months  the  appalling  extent  of  the 
disaster  showed  itself  in  every  road  and  town  on  the  Avestern 
coast  ;  above  all  in  the  streets  of  Plymouth,  as  the  ships  came 
straggling  back. 

There  was  one  living  in  the  West  at  that  time,  "  Bottomless 
Bagge, "  Sir  James  Bagge,  and  it  is  to  no  other  than  Arch- 
bishop Laud  that  he  must  be  thankful  for  his  characteristic 
patronymic.  Did  our  space  permit,  we  -should  like  to  devote  a 
page  or  two  to  the  development  of  the  character  of  this  worthy. 
He  was  Buckingham's  choice,  and  a  mosi  worthy  agent  for  the 
West  ;  he  had  a  profound  genius  for  servilities,  meannesses, 
and  rascalities  of  every  kind  ;  he  was  a  man  who  could  lick  the 
blacking  off  a  great  man's  boots,  and  swear  that  it  was  better 
than  port  wine  ;  it  was  he  who  offered  the  £5  to  the  French- 
men for  their  £80.  We  see  in  him  the  cur  constantly  snap- 
ping round  about  the  heels  of  Eliot,  and  always  with  the  same 
sinuous  sanctity — his  fragrant  name  is  an  ointment  poured 
forth,  with  a  large  flavoring  of  asafoetida  ;  a  truculent  rascal,  a 
genuine  Barnacle,  a  great  high-priest  of  the  Circumlocution 
Office,  embodying  in  himself  a  premature  aptitude  of  chicane 
and  red  tape,  which  might  make  him  a  study  even  in  these 
modern  days.  The  rascal  does  not  seem  to  have  got  the  worst 
of  it.  Eliot  was  often  imprisoned  ;  Coke,  Phillipps,  and  other 
brave  men,  as  we  know,  suffered,  and  that  joyfully,  the  spoil- 
ing of  their  goods  and  their  persons  ;  but  "  Bottomless 
Bagge,"  with  an  admirable  eel-like  slipperiness,  always  found 
himself  on  some  comfortable  couch  of  glittering  mud.  The 
character  of  the  man  is  well  portrayed  in  Mr.  Forster's  "  Life 


HIS    COJSTTEMPOEARIES  :    SIR   JOHN    ELIOT.  65 

of  Eliot  "  :  his  peculations,  his  servilities,  his  smiling  face  be- 
fore, his  stealthy  hand  behind  the  curtain,  his  hints  about  his 
own  family,  his  personal  meritorious  demerits.  He  seems  to 
have  feathered  himself  well  from  the  failing  of  the  Cadiz  expe- 
dition :  he  victualled  the  ships,  and  one  contemporary  speaks 
of  his  conduct  in  that  matter  as  worthy  of  the  halter.  But, 
bad  as  Bagge  was,  it  was  necessary  to  strike  higher.  A  cry  of 
shame  and  indignation  rose  from  the  whole  nation,  and  Eliot 
led  up  and  organized  the  Parliament  to  a  charge  upon  Buck- 
ingham as  the  one  grand  delinquent.  The  king  interposed  for, 
his  favorite,  and  wrote  an  autograph  letter  to  the  House,  in 
reply  to  their  demand  for  redresses  before  they  granted  new 
supplies. 

"  I  must  let  you  know,"  he  continued,  suddenly  letting 
loose  the  thought  he  could  no  longer  mask  or  control,  "  that  I 
will  not  allow  any  of  my  servants  to  be  questioned  among  you, 
much  less  such  as  are  of  eminent  place  and  near  unto  me. 
I  see  you  especially  aim  at  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 
I  wonder  what  hath  so  altered  your  affection  toward  him  ? 
What  hath  he  done  since  the  last  Parliament  of  my 
father's  time,  to  alter  and  change  your  minds  ?  I  wot  not  ; 
but  can  assure  you  he  hath  not  meddled  or  done  anything  con- 
cerning the  public,  or  commonwealth,  but  by  special  directions 
and  appointment,  and  as  my  servant.  ...  I  would  you 
would  hasten  for  my  supply,  or  else  it  will  be  worse  for  your- 
selves ;  for  if  any  evil  happen,  I  think  I  shall  be  the  last  that 
shall  feel  it." 

Grandly  Eliot  remarked  to  the  House,  when  the  letter  of  the 
king  was  read,  "  We  have  had  a  representation  of  great  fear, 
but  I  hope  it  will  not  darken  our  understandings."  The  mes- 
sage of  the  king  seems  only  to  have  led  Eliot  to  a  piercing  and 
most  eloquent  analysis  in  the  House  of  the  nature  of  monarchy 
and  kingly  office.  This  speech  produced  an  immense  excite- 
ment. The  next  day  the  mad-headed  king  called  the  Houses 
to  attend  him  at  Whitehall.  He  told  them  he  had  "  to  give 
thanks  to  the  Lords,  but  iioije  to  the  Conamousj  whose  fault  it 


6G  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

was  ]iis.purpose  lo  control."  He  demanded  supplies  snfficient 
and  uncondiuonal.  If  not  granted,  the  House  would  be  dis- 
solved. "  Remember,"  said  the  king,  "  that  Parliaments  are 
altogether  in  my  power  for  their  calling,  sitting,  and  dissolu- 
tion ;  and  therefore,  as  I  find  the  fruits  of  them  good  or  evil, 
they  are  to  continue  or  not  to  be."  AVe  can  ourselves  conceive 
how  great  was  the  consternation  which  must  have  been  pro- 
duced by  such  a  speech.  The  next  day  the  House  met,  sat 
with  locked  doors,  placed  the  key  in  the  Speaker's  hands,  and 
'forbade  any  member  to  leave  the  House,  a  practice  then  very 
unusual.  Then  Eliot  rose,  a  resolute  man,  through  whose  lips 
how  much  more  kingly  a  soul  expressed  itself,  than  that  of  the 
weak,  pettish,  and  merely  obstinate  king  !  He  said,  "  The 
House  met  neither  to  do  what  the  king  should  command  them, 
nor  to  abstain  where  he  should  forbid  them,  and  therefore  they 
should  continue  constant  to  maintain  their  privileges,  and  not 
do  either  more  or  less  for  what  had  been  said  to  them."  And 
while  uttering  these  and  like  words,  and  moving  a  remon- 
strance to  the  king,  the  House  cried,  "  Well  spoken,  Sir  John 
Eliot  !"  And  then,  of  course,  what  should  follow  but  the 
impeachment  of  the  duke  ? 

No  doubt  the  speech  in  which  Buckingham  was  impeached 
is  a  great  speech.  Probably  nothing  of  which  we  have  any 
knowledge  or  recollection  could  have  so  expressed  the  natural 
indiirnation  of  the  House  and  of  the  whole  enraged  kingdom. 
Wrath  which  had  been  gathering  for  years  broke  forth  ;  crimes 
patent  to  all  knowledge,  unblushing  in  their  effrontery,  were 
pointed  to  and  brought  out  into  the  clear  light  of  the  parlia- 
mentary countenance  ;  nor  did  the  speaker  hesitate  for  a  mo- 
ment in  his  dignified  career  of  accusation  because  he  knew  the 
impossibility  of  delivering  such  a  crimination  and  denunciation 
without,  in  some  measure,  impeaching  the  king,  and  placing 
himself,  not  only  beneath  royal  displeasure,  but  within  the 
reach  of  royal  punishment.  All  came  in  for  condemnation  : 
the  St.  Peter,  of  Newhaven  ;  the  treason  of  Ilochelle  ;  the  ex- 
tortions and  exactions  upon  East  Indian  and  other  merchants, 


HIS    CONTEMPORARIES  :    SIR   JOHN    ELIOT.  67 

"  No  right,  no  interest,  may  withstand  him.  Through  the 
powers  of  state  and  justice  he  has  dared  ever  to  strike  at  his 
own  ends.  Your  lordships  have  had  this  sufRciently  expressed 
in  the  case  of  the  St.  Peter,  and  by  the  sliips  at  Dieppe."  He 
tlien  advanced  to  the  astounding  lUustration  of  the  personal 
aggrandizement  of  the  man  :  "I  ain  raised,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  to  observe  a  wonder — a  wonder  both  in  policy  and  nature." 

"  My  lords,  I  have  done.  You  see  the  man  !  What  have 
been  his  actions,  whom  he  is  like,  you  know.  I  leave  him  to 
your  judgments.  This  only  is  conceived  by  us,  the  knights, 
citizens,  and  burgesses  of  the  Commons  House  of  Parliament, 
that  by  him  came  all  our  evils,  in  him  we  find  the  causes,  and 
on  him  must  be  the  remedies.  To  this  end  we  are  now  ad- 
dressed to  your  lordships,  in  confidence  of  your  justice,  to 
which  some  late  examples  and  your  wisdoms  invite  us.  We 
cannot  doubt  your  lordships.  The  greatness,  the  power,  the 
practice  of  the  whole  world,  we  know  to  be  all  inferior  to  your 
greater  judgments  ;  and  from  thence  we  take  assurance.  To 
that,  therefore,  we  now  refer  him  ;  there  to  be  examined,  there 
to  be  tried  ;  and  in  due  time  from  thence  we  shall  express  such 
judgment  as  his  cause  merits." 

The  king's  wrath  broke  all  bounds,  and  early  the  next  day 
Eliot  was  in  the  Tower.  When  a  reference  by  Eliot  to  Sejanus 
had  been  reported  to  the  king,  he  exclaimed,  "  Implicitly  he 
must  intend  me  for  Tiberius  !"  lie  hastened  to  the  Lords. 
With  Buckingham  by  his  side  he  vindicated  himself  and  his 
minister  from  the  "  vile  and  malicious  calumnies  of  the  Com- 
mons." The  arrest  of  Eliot  had  been  swift  and  secret. 
Arrested  in  the  House,  still  his  imprisonment,  with  that  of 
Digges,  was  for  a  short  time  unknown.  When  it  did  become 
known,  although  Mr.  Pym  rose  to  counsel  moderation,  the 
House  would  not  hear  him.  "Rise!  rise!  rise  !"  was  shouted 
on  all  sides.  "  No  business  till  we  are  righted  in  our  liber- 
ties." It  was  the  same  the  next  day  when  the  Speaker  at- 
tempted to  proceed  with  the  business  of  the  House.  "  Sit 
down,  sit  down  I"  was  the  universal  cry.     "No  business  till 


68  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

•we  are  righted  in  our  liberties  !"  Digges  was  instantly- 
liberated,  against  him  nothing  could  be  alleged  in  comparison 
with  the  high  misdemeanors  of  Eliot.  As  he  resumed  his  seat, 
the  House  turned  itself  into  a  grand  committee  concerning  Sir 
John  Eliot.  His  papers  had  been  seized,  efforts  were  made  to 
prove  him  the  head  of  a  conspiracy,  and  it  was  resolved  to  put 
him  to  the  question.  So  still  in  the  Commons  went  on  the  in- 
dignation, and  in  the  Tower  the  examination,  and  the  Com- 
mons pertinaciously  would  attend  to  no  business,  nor  be  quiet, 
until  he  was  released.  He  wa^  released,  and  took  his  place 
again  amid  the  joyful  manifestations  of  his  fellow  members  ; 
rising  directly  in  his  place,  and  requesting  to  hear  what  was 
charged  against  him,  that  lie  might  show  by  his  answer  whether 
he  was  worthy  to  sit  there.  The  poor  king,  as  in  every  move- 
ment of  his  political  life,  lost  greatly  by  this  transaction  ;  and 
yet  it  produced  so  little  good  upon  his  own  mind,  that  years 
after  he  was  none  the  less  willing  to  jeopardize  his  position  by 
attempting  to  arrest  Hampden  and  Pym.  Clamor  and  debate 
went  on  within  the  House,  and  men's  hearts  failed  them  for 
fear  without.  While  the  Remonstrance  was  passing,  a  wild 
storm  broke  over  London.  Wind  and  hail,  rain,  lightning 
and  thunder,  the  like  of  it  was  never  known  in  the  memory  of 
living  man  :  the  churchyard  walls  were  broken  down,  the  earth 
rent  and  torn  from  the  graves,  revealing,  so  it  is  said,  the  faces 
of  the  dead  ;  supernatural  shapes  in  the  mist  hung  brooding 
over  the  Thames,  and  the  superstitious  saw  misty  shape  and 
storm  and  tempest  bearing  on  and  beating  against  the  house  of 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  its  stairs  and  its  walls.  Storms  were 
moving  toward  York  House  too.  The  next  day  the  House  was 
summoned  by  the  king  to  hear  the  commission  of  dissolution. 
The  Commons  knew  their  crafty  king.  They  had  passed  in 
haste  their  remonstrance.  The  Speaker  was  instructed  how 
to  act  ;  he  approached  the  throne  holding  up  the  ''  Great  Re- 
monstrance" as  he  approached,  and  craved  compliance  with  its 
'•'humble  petition  for  the  removal  of  that  great  person,  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  from  access  to  your  royal  presence," 


HIS  CONTEMPORAhfES :    StU  Joels'  EtIOT.  69 

Without  a  word  the  dissolution  followed.  And  even  while  the 
commission  was  read,  members  were  seen  reading  copies  of  this 
which  has  been  through  all  time  called  the  "  Great  Remon- 
strance ;"  and  so  the  House,  led  on  by  Eliot,  had  done  its  de- 
termined work.  The  Remonstrance  had  been  accomplished 
just  in  time  ;  in  a  few  days  it  would  be  in  the  hands  of  the 
people,  and  would  tell  why  the  king  had  once  more  so  rudely 
dismissed  his  Parliament. 

For  two  years  the  king  governed  by  prerogative,  and  it  may 
be  supposed  that  the  failure  to  punish  Eliot  would  not  make 
the  king  and  his  minister  the  more  pleasant  and  affectionate  in 
their  feelings  toward  the  patriot.  "Bottomless  Bagge"  and 
Buckingham,  between  them,  devised  a  form  of  conspiracy 
against  Eliot.  He  still  held  his  office  of  Vice-Admiral,  and  an 
effort  was  made  to  get  up  a  case  against  him  in  connection  with 
his  office  ;  and  there  was  a  draft  of  a  paper  of  a  peculiar  kind, 
inquiring  "  whether  Sir  John  may  not  be  sequestered  in  the 
mean  time  ;"  in  fact,  whether  he  could  not  be  struck  without 
the  awkwardness  of  being  heard.  Eliot  stood  between  a  Ham- 
burg merchantman  and  a  gang  of  Welsh  pirates  ;  this  again 
seemed  to  be  in  some  way  an  infraction  of  the  Lord  Admiral's 
designs  and  ideas.  Several  cases  are  recited  during  this  period 
of  the  government  by  prerojrative,  in  Avhich  "  Bottomless 
Bagge's"  foul  play,  and  the  vile  connivance  of  the  Council  are 
brought  out  conspicuously.  "Honesty  among  them,''  says 
Mr.  Forster,  "  was  only  a  commodity  to  deal  in— too  scarce  to 
be  wasted  ;  and  to  any  share  of  it  such  people  as  Sir  John 
Eliot  could  have  no  claim."  We  next  find  Eliot,  in  those  days 
of  prerogative,  refusing  the  loan,  the  celebrated  loan,  of  which 
John  Haifipden  said,  "  I  could  be  content  to  lend  as  well  as 
others,  but  I  should  fear  to  draw  upon  myself  the  curse  in 
Magna  Charta,  which  should  be  read  twice  a  year,  against  those 
who  infringe  it."  Eliot  issued  a  public  appeal  through  the 
West  against  the  loan,  and  grounded  his  resistance  to  it  upon 
its  essentially  unconstitutional  character.  Bagge,  who  in  addi- 
tion to  being  a  rascal,  was  an  exceeding  ass,  wrote  to  show  that 


^0  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

the  ttllicii-vauntcd  Magna  Charta,  which  Eliot  magnified,  was  a 
mere  abortion  ;  he  laughed  at  the  Barons  and  their  rebellious 
armies  in  the  meadows  of  Staines,  and  called  their  meeting  to- 
gether "  satanical,"  and  Eliot  is  "satanical,"  too,  for  citing 
it.  About  this  business  Eliot  found  his  way  into  the  Gate- 
house. The  nation  raised  a  loud  outcry  for  a  Parliament.  It 
had  been  hoped  that  Eliot  might  have  been  outlawed  ;  at  any 
rate,  it  was  hoped  that  he  might  be  excluded  from  a  Parlia- 
ment. Alas  !  when  he  was  released,  it  was  only  to  be  received 
with  rapture  throughout  Cornwall,  and-  to  be  returned,  not  as 
member  for  Newport,  but  as  knight  of  the  shire.  Thus  the 
man  most  disaffected  to  the  Duke  and  the  Court  appeared  with 
half  the  country  at  his  heels  in  the  third  Parliament  of  Charles 
I.  ;  that  ominous  Parliament,  than  which  only  another  was 
more  fearful  to  the  kins:.  It  met  in  March,  1628.  Eliot  was- 
then  thirty-eight  years  old,  and  had  only  four  more  years 
to  live  at  all.  IIow  much  to  be  done  in  those  four  years  ! 
The  king  at  once  told  his  Commons  that  he  only  called  them 
together  that  they  should  vote  him  sufficient  supply.  He 
trusted  they  would  not  give  way  to  the  follies  of  particular 
men.  The  "  particular  men,"  however,  entered  the  House 
with  the  same  resolution  they  exhibited  two  years  before. 
Eliot  was  one  of  the  first  speakers  upon  those  grounds  of 
offence  growing  out  of  the  resistance  of  Nonconformity  to  pre- 
latical  assumptions,  IIow  eloquent  are  the  following  words, 
and  how  do  their  forcible  expressions  enlighten  us  on  the  char- 
acter of  the  man  ! 

"  Religion,"  he  proceeded,  "  is  the  chief  virtue  of  a  man, 
devotion  and  religion  ;  and  of  devotion,  prayer  and  fasting  are 
the  chief  characters.  Let  these  be  corrupted  in  their  use,  the 
devotion  is  corrupt.  If  the  devotion  be  once  tamted,  the  relig- 
ion is  impure.  It  then,  denying  the  power  of  godlmess,  be- 
comes l)ut  an  outward  form  ;  and,  as  it  is  concluded  in  the 
text,  a  religion  thai  is  in  vain.  Of  such  religion  in  this  place, 
or  at  these  times,  I  impeach  no  man.  Let  their  own  con- 
sciences accuse  them.      Of  such  devotion   1  make  no  judgment 


SIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :   SlR   JOHX   ELIOT.  71 

upon  others,  Lut  leave  them  to  the  Searcher  of  all  hearts. 
This  only  for  caution  I  address  to  you  :  that  if  any  of  us  have 
been  guilty  in  this  kind,  let  us  now  here  repent  it.  And  let  us 
remember  that  repentance  is  not  in  words.  It  is  not  a  '  Lord  ! 
Lord!  '  that  will  carry  us  into  heaven,  but  the  doing  th^  will  of 
our  Father  which  is  in  heaven.  And  to  undo  our  country  is 
not  to  do  that  will.  It  is  not  that  Father's  will  that  we  should 
betray  that  mother.  Religion,  repentance,  prayer,  these  are 
not  private  contracts  to  the  public  breach  and  prejudice.  There 
must  be  a  sincerity  in  it  all  ;  a  throughout  integrity  and  per- 
fection, that  our  words  and  works  be  answerable.  If  our 
actions  correspond  not  to  our  words,  our  successes  will  not  be 
better  than  our  hearts.  When  such  near  kindred  differ,  stran- 
gers may  be  at  odds  ;  and  the  prevention  of  this  evil  is  the 
chief  reason  that  I  move  for.  Nor  is  it  without  cause  that  this 
motion  does  proceed.  If  we  reflect  upon  the  former  passages 
of  this  place,  much  might  be  thence  collected  to  support  the 
propriety  of  the  caution.  But  the  desire  is  better,  to  reform 
errors  than  to  remember  them.  My  affections  strive  for  the 
happiness  of  this  meeting,  but  it  must  be  had  from  God.  It  is 
His  blessing  though  our  crown.  Let  us  iqv  Him,  therefore, 
in  all  sincerity  expect  it  ;  and  if  any  by  vain  shadows  would 
delude  us,  let  us  distinguish  between  true  substances  and  those 
shadows.  It  is  religion,  and  not  the  name  of  religion,  that 
must  guide  us  ;  that  in  the  truth  thereof  we  may  with  all  unity 
be  concordant  :  not  turning  it  into  subtlety  and  art,  playing 
with  God  as  with  the  powers  of  men  ;  but  in  the  sincerity  of 
our  souls  doino;  that  work  we  came  for.  Which  now  I  most 
humbly  move,  and  pray  for  that  blessing  fi-om  above." 

His  attacks  upon  the  illegalities  of  the  last  two  years  were  as 
brave  as  before  :  the  state  of  maritime  affairs — the  suspension 
and  violation  of  statutes.  With  much  condemnation,  however, 
a  vote  of  five  subsidies  was  granted  to  the  king  ;  but  the  time 
when  the  collection  was  to  be  made,  or  the  Bill  introduced, 
was  not  mentioned.  The  House  immovably  resolved  that  both 
were  to  depend  on  the  good  faith  of  the  king.      It  Avas  the 


72  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

greatest  grant  ever  made  in  Parliament.  The  Secretary,  on 
behalf  of  the  king,  proceeded  to  thank  the  House,  but  coupled 
thanks  of  Buckingham  with  thanks  of  the  king.  Sir  John 
Eliot  leaped  up,  and  taxed  Mr.  Secretary  with  intermingling  a 
subject'^  speech  with  the  king's  message  :  "in  that  House 
they  knew  of  no  other  distinction  but  that  of  king  and  sub- 
jects." Whereupon  many  of  the  House  made  exclamation, 
"  Well  spoken,  Sir  John  Eliot/  " 

The^re  were,  to  our  minds,  some  extraordinary  subjects  of 
debate,  especially  on  the  king's  claim  to  commit  without  cause 
shown  on  the  face  of  the  warrant.  "  The  greatest  question," 
exclaiiued  Pym.  "  that  ever  was  in  this  place  or  elsewhere  !" 
Sclden  and  Coke  both  spoke  upon  it.  "  What,"  answered 
Coke,  "  shall  I  accept  such  law  ?  Shall  I  have  a  state  of  in- 
heritance for  life,  or  for  years,  in  my  land,  and  shall  I  be  a 
tenant  at  will,  for  my  liberty  !  A  freeman  to  be  a  tenant  at 
will  for  his  freedom  !  There  is  no  such  tenure  in  all  Little- 
ton." We  follow  with  earnest  interest  those  discussions  in 
which  Eliot  took  so  groat  and  prominent  a  part,  out  of  which 
came  into  existence  the  immortal  Petition  of  Rights.  These 
are  great  debates,  greater  debates  are  not  recorded  in  history. 
"  Magna  Charta  is  such  a  fellow,"  said  Coke,  "  he  will  have 
no  Sovereign."  The  great  charter  of  the  people's  liberties  was 
upheld  and  strengthened  by  the  Petition  of  Rights. 

And  it  is  in  the  course  of  these  debates  that  the  stately  form 
of  Wentvvorth,  afterward  Earl  of  Strafford,  rises  to  the  life. 
Wentworth's  was  no  vulgar  ambition  ;  there  is  little  reason  to 
think  that  any  such  spirit,  textured  as  his  was,  could  have  any 
hearty  sympathies  with  the  people  or  with  freedom.  True, 
his  voice  was  also  heard  in  favor  of  the  great  Petition  of 
Rights  ;  but  Mr.  Forster  has  very  distinctly  brought  out  the 
reason  of  this.  He  had  been  thwarted  by  Buckingham,  and 
the  majestic  and  powerful  man — to  whom,  in  the  great  gallery  of 
statesmen,  Buckingham  bore  some  such  resemblance  as  a  butter- 
fly might  bear  to  an  eagle — taught  the  favorite  more  rightly  to 
estimate  his  power.     Wentvvorth  had  been  refused  the  Presi- 


HIS    CO^TTEMPOR ARIES  :    SIR   JOH^T    ELIOT.  73 

dentship  of  York.  He  became  the  most  ardent  supporter  of 
the  Petition  of  Rights.  He  was  insuhedby  Buckingham.  He 
revenged,  in  an  instant  and  remarkable  manner,  the  insult.  It 
was  speedily  atoned,  and  as  speedily  foi'given  ;  and  then  Went- 
worth  is  before  us  with  a  cloud  of  eloquent  words,  attempting 
to  evaporate,  or  pour  some  haze  round,  an  apparent  burst  of 
indignant  eloquence,  when  he  found  himself  on  a  previous 
night  in  company  with  the  great  voices  of  the  defenders  of  the 
people.  It  is  a  picture  on  which  we  like  to  look — these  two 
unquestionabl}'  foremost  men  of  their  parties,  Eliot  and  Went- 
worth,  in  their  famous  duel.  Eliot  rose  immediately  with  case-, 
to  measure  himself  with  his  formidable  antagonist.  In  a  noble 
speech,  he  appealed  to  Wentworth  against  Wentworth.  There 
was  no  man  in  the  House  better  fitted  to  appreciate  the  singular 
dignity  and  grandeur  of  Eliot's  spirit  than  this  dark,  majestic 
complotter  against  the  liberties  of  England.  Eliot  printed 
himself  ineffaceably  on  Wentworth's  mind  ;  and  twelve  years 
later,  when  the  mesh  was  almost  woven,  he  nerved  himself  for 
conflict — wlien  Eliot  was  all  dust  beneath  the  Tower  Green,  and 
hours  of  danger  were  leaping  rapidly  upon  himself — by  calling 
up  the  image  of  his  old  antagonist  ;  and  no  finer  tribute  was 
offered  to  the  memory  of  Eliot  than  Wentworth  uttered  when 
he  said,  "  Sound  or  lame,  I  shall  be  with  you  before  the  begin- 
ning of  Parliament.  I  should  not  fail,  though  Sir  John  Eliot 
were  living."  In  the  discussion  on  which  we  are  now  looking, 
Eliot  obtained  an  easy  victory  over  the  dark,  ambitious  man, 
whose  day  was  hastening  on,  though  not  yet  come.  As  we 
read  the  story  of  his  life,  it  stirs  feelings  of  pride  for  our  coun- 
try, and  homage  for  the  mep  who  have  glorified  and  adorned 
it.  We  must  pass  over  the  strong  language  and  persistent  re- 
monstrances to  the  kmg  on  the  conduct  of  his  minister.  The 
report  of  the  Committee  of  Trade  was  a  lamentable  one.  The 
losses  by  pirates  continued  to  be  amazing  ;  two  hundred  and 
forty-eight  ships,  of  a  hundred  tons  and  upward,  had  been 
seized  and  lost  between  Dover  and  Newcastle.  Seamen  were 
wronged  by  inadequate  wages  and  uncertain  payment,  and  the 


74  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

want  of  hospitals  for  their  reception  was  shown.  As  the  events 
drive  forward  through  the  House,  what  scenes  those  are  which 
meet  us — a  whole  House  in  tears,  and  such  a  House  !  Not  a 
congregation  of  weak,  feeble  minds,  but  strong,  sagacious  law- 
yers, daring,  resolute  men,  all  aghast  at  the  desolation  falling 
on  the  country.  Speeches  were  interdicted  by  messages  frou 
the  king,  until  at  last,  in  response  to  a  speech  of  the  octogena- 
rian Sir  Edward  Coke,  that  "  the  author  of  all  these  miseries 
was  the  Diike  of  Buckingham,"  strange  shouts  arose  on  every 
side,  and  a  loud  cry  was  heard  of  ' '  The  Duke,  the  Duke  !  'tis 
he,  'tis  he  !"  In  the  midst  of  all,  while  Eliot  was  engaged  in 
unwebbing  the  abominations  and  the  intricacies  of  the  Court, 
death  served  his  adversaries  a  good  turn.  A  heavy  calamity 
fell  upon  Eliot.  We  read  on  Friday,  June  20th,  in  the  Com- 
mons' Journal,  a  notice,  "  Sir  John  Eliot,  in  respect  of  the 
death  of  his  wife,  has  leave  to  go  down  into  the  country  ;"  and 
the  impeachment  of  the  great  national  foe  was  set  aside  by  an- 
other unexpected  circumstance,  too,  on  the  23d  of  August,  this 
1628.  A  man  went  into  "  the  church  which  stood  by  the 
conduit  in  Fleet  Street,"  and  left  his  name  to  be  prayed  for  on 
the  Sunday  following,  as  a  man  disordered  in  his  mind  ;  then 
lie  went  to  a  cutler's  shop  on  Tower  Hill,  and  bought  a  ten- 
penny  dagger-knife,  and  upon  a  paper  which  he  pinned  to  the 
lining  of  his  hat  he  wrote  the  name  "  John  Felton,"  afterward 
the  assassin  of  Buckingham,  and  these  words  : 

"  That  man  is  cowardly,  base,  and  deserveth  not  the  name 
of  a  gentleman  or  soldier,  that  is  not  willinge  to  sacrifice  his  life 
for  the  honor  of  his  God,  his  kinge,  and  his  countrie.  Lett 
noe  man  commend  me  for  doinge  of  it,  but  rather  discommend 
themselves  as  the  cause  of  it,  for  if  God  had  not  taken  away 
our  hearts  for  our  sinnes,  he  would  not  have  gone  so  longe  un- 
punished." 

We  shall  soon  be  with  Eliot  in  his  last  scenes.  He  arrived 
in  London  for  the  last  time  on  the  30th  of  December,  1628. 
Things  were  getting  worse  and  worse.  We  come  at  last  to  the 
scene  of  the  29th  of  March,  1629  ;  then  Eliot  made  his  last 


HIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :   SIR   JOHN    ELIOT.  75 

speech.  Although  the  Speaker  had  the  king"  s  command  for 
adjournment,  Eliot  continued  to  speak,  Denzil,  Holies,  and 
Valentine  meantime  holding  the  Speaker  in  his  chair.  Amid 
gathering  excitement,  he  presented  the  Declaration  drawn  up 
by  the  Committee  of  Trade  ;  the  Speaker  refused  to  receive  it, 
the  clerk  refused  to  read  it.  Against  the  call  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished members,  the  Speaker  still  refused.  Still  the  Dec- 
laration was  eventually  read  and  put  to  the  vote,  and  the  House 
was  in  au  uproar. 

In  the  history  of  the  House  of  Commons,  the  scene  which 
was  now  acting  stands  upon  the  pages  of  our  great  national 
story  as  not  only  one  of  the  most  exciting  and  memorable,  but 
one  of  the  most  important.  Eliot  stands  out  as  the  chief  actor 
in  that  great  scene.  A  messenger  from  the  king  came  down 
to  the  House,  but  sought  in  vain  to  obtain  an  entrance  ;  amid 
the  din  Eliot's  voice  rose  clear,  firm,  and  strong  ;  he  carried 
the  Declaration  by  a  vast  majority  ;  amid  the  repeated  knock- 
ings  of  the  Black  Rod  seeking  admittance  at  the  door,  and 
with  prophetic  pathos,  he  said,  "  As  for  myself,  I  further  pro- 
test, as  I  am  a  gentleman,  if  my  fortune  be  ever  again  to  meet 
in  this  honorable  assembly,  where  I  now  leave  I  will  begin 
asjain  anew."  A  shout  of  assent  carried  the  Declaration 
against  all  illegal  taxation,  and  against  all  innovations  in  the 
religion  of  the  State.  Then  the  doors  were  opened,  and  the 
members  rushed  out,  carrying  away  with  them  the  king's  offi- 
cers who  were  standing:  and  waiting  for  admission.  It  was  the 
last  time  Eliot  appeared  in  Parliament.  The  next  day  he  was 
a  close  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  and  from  the  grip  of  Charles  he 
never  escaped  again  alive.  There  was  not  another  Parliament 
for  eleven  years. 

Eliot  was  fined  £2000  ;  he  very  likely  increased  the  spite  of 
the  king  by  taking  precautions  against  his  pouncing  upon  this 
valuable  little  peculation  ;  he  said  he  had  two  cloaks,  a  few 
books,  a  few  pair  of  boots,  and  that  was  all  his  personal  sub- 
stance, and  if  they  could  turn  this  into  £2000,  much  good 
might  it  do  them.     So  the  sheriffs  appointed  to  seize  upon  his 


76  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

possessions  in  Cornwall,  for  the  king,  were  obliged  to  return  a 
nihil.  lie  secured  his  property  in  trust  for  his  sons,  and  those 
he  committed  to  the  care  of  John  Hampden  ;  and  he  directed 
his  upholsterer  to  do  what  could  be  done  to  make  his  cell  com- 
fortable in  the  Tower,  there  he  took  up  his  residence,  there  he 
spent  the  remainder  of  his  days,  there  he  wrote  the  "  Mon- 
archy of  Man,"  which  Mr.  John  Forster  has  now  made  tolera- 
bly familiar  to  English  readers,  and  which  shows  the  master  of 
the  eloquent  tongue  to  have  been  equally  master  of  the  elo- 
quent pen  and  eloquent  prose,  and  whose  stateliness  places  its 
writer  on  the  same  level  with  the  authors  of  "  Areopagitica, " 
and  the  first  books  of  the  "  Ecclesiastical  Polity."  Our  knowl- 
edge of  Sir  John  Eliot  has  largely  increased  since  Disraeli  the 
elder  wrote  his  Commentaries  ;  in  fact,  at  that  time,  the  story 
of  Eliot  was  almost  a  blank  in  our  history.  Disraeli  said, 
"  The  harshness  of  Charles  toward  Eliot,  to  me  indicates  a 
cause  of  offence  either  of  a  deeper  dye  or  of  a  more  personal 
nature  than  perhaps  we  have  yet  discovered."  In  fact,  it  was 
Disraeli's  desire  to  show  that  the  great  affairs  in  which  Eliot 
took  part  moved  upon  the  wheels  of  private  grudges,  and  such 
private  grudges  are  manifest  enough  in  the  conduct  of  Charles, 
but  not  in  that  of  Eliot  ;  the  most  careful  investigation  only 
shows  how  ardently  patriotic  and  pure  were  the  motives  of  this 
great  herald  of  the  Revolution. 

Through  all  the  shuffling  of  judges,  and  the  dodging  of 
courtiers,  and  their  "Bottomless  Bagges,"  we  cannot  follow 
the  imprisoned  patriot's  history.  When  a  mean  spirit  gets  a 
majestic  one  into  its  power,  we  know  what  follows.  A  cat 
would  care  for  a  nightingale,  a  tiger  for  an  antelope,  as  little  as 
Charles  Stuart  cared  for  John  Eliot,  and  their  relations  were 
very  similar.  The  pretexts  for  his  detention  were  various  and 
singular.  Then  came  hours  of  sickness — the  frame  was  broken 
down  with  cold  and  watching,  but  the  spirit  was  unbroken  still. 
All  his  efforts  to  obtain  release  were  in  vain,  and  the  Tower 
finally  closed  upon  him.  Eliot  was  dying  of  consumption. 
Charles  was  repeatedly  petitioned,  but  petitioned  in  vain,  to 


HIS   CONTEMPORAKIES  :   SIR   JOHIT    ELIOT.  77 

remit  some  portion  of  the  cheerless  discomfort  of  his  illegal 
imprisonment.  He  died  the  27th  of  November,  1632.  The 
king  was  petitioned  by  Eliot's  son  that  he  would  permit  the 
body  of  his  father  to  be  carried  to  the  ancestral  vaults  in  Corn- 
wall ;  the  king  coldly  replied,  "  Let  Sir  John  Eliot's  body  be 
buried  in  the  church  of  the  parish  where  he  died."  His  dust 
lies  in  the  chapel  of  the  Tower.  How  welcome  the  tidings 
were  at  Whitehall  that  the  great  juror  on  the  crimes  of  tyrants, 
the  vindicator  of  the  freedom  of  the  people,  had  gone  away, 
we  can  well  believe  ;  he  would  torment  tyrants  and  traitors  and 
parasites  and  Stuarts  no  more.  He  died  in  his  forty -third 
year.  And  yet  there  are  those  even  still  living,  who  maintain 
that  the  Revolution  was  unnecessary,  and  call  Charles  an  in- 
jured and  martyred  king.  Eliot  was  the  great  precursor  who 
showed  the  necessity  for  Cromwell  ;  was  it  not  time  that 
Cromwell  should  come  ? 


CHAPTER   IV. 


»» 


CROMWELL,     "the      LORD      OF     THE    FENS,         AND    FIRST    APPEAR- 
ANCE   IN    PARLIAMENT. 

From  our  discursive  view  of  the  times  and  character  of 
James,  and  the  earlier  and  obscure  years  of  the  life  of  Crom- 
well, we  now  enter  upon  his  more  public  career.  The  first 
occasion  of  his  appearance  in  any  service  connected  with  the 
public,  was  upon  the  attempt  made  by  the  needy  Charles  to 
wrest,  for  the  purposes  of  his  exchequer,  from  the  Earl  of  Bed- 
ford and  the  people,  the  fens  which  had  been  drained.  The 
case  has  been  variously  stated.  The  brief  history  is  somewhat 
as  follows  : 

In  those  days  some  millions  of  acres  of  the  finest  plains  in 
the  counties  of  Cambridge,  Huntingdon,  Northampton,  and 
Lincoln,  lay  undrained.  Several  years  before  the  period  to 
which  we  now  refer,  the  Earl  of  Oxford  and  oth^r  noblemen  of 
that  day  had  proposed  to  drain  large  portions  of  them,  and  in 
fact  had  done  so.  The  Bedford  Level,  containing  nearly  400,- 
000  acres,  had  been  completed,  when  it  was  found  necessary 
to  call  in  other  aid  ;  and  a  proposition  was  made  to  the  Crown, 
offering  a  fair  proportion  of  the  land  for  its  assistance  and 
authority  in  the  completion  of  the  whole. 

Until  now  all  had  gone  on  well  ;  but  hungry  Charles  saw 
here  an  opportunity  of  gratifying  his  cupidity.  A  number  of 
commissioners  came  from  the  king  to  Huntingdon  ;  they,  in- 
structed by  the  king's  own  letter,  proceeded  to  lay  claim  under 
various  pretexts,  such  as  corrupt  and  servile  ministers  know 
how  to  use,  to  95,000  acres  of  land  already  drained.  Crom- 
well stepped  upon  the  stage  of  action,  and  the  draining  of  the 
fens  was  entirely  stopped.  Many  writers  affect  to  put  a  bad 
construction  upon  this  first  public  act  of  Cromwell's  ;  while,  to 


''THE    LORD    OF   THE    FENS."  79 

any  but  horny  eyes,  the  reason  of  the  whole  business  is  most 
obvious. 

"  The  Protector's  enemies  would  persuade  us  that  his  oppo- 
sition to  Charles's  interference  arose  out  of  the  popular  objec- 
tion, supported  by  him,  to  the  project  itself  ;  and,  that  the  end 
he  proposed  to  himself,  and  obtained,  was  its  hindrance  ;  for- 
getting that  if  his,  or  the  general  wish,  had  been  to  impede 
the  work,  the  time  that  would  have  been  chosen  for  the 
attempt  would  have  been  at  the  revival  of  the  idea,  some  seven 
or  eight  years  previously,  and  not  that,  when  so  large  a  portion 
of  it  was  accomplished  in  the  completion  (nearly)  of  the  real 
Bedford  Level.  But  the  obvious  utility  of  the  undertaking 
would  alone  render  the  idea  of  extended  opposition  to  it, 
grounded  on  its  own  merits,  unlikely  ;  and  particularly  as  to 
Cromwell,  from  his  known  approbation  and  encouragement 
afterward  afforded  to  all  such  public-spirited  schemes,  and  the 
thanks  he  actually  received  from  William,  the  next  Earl  of 
Bedford,  for  his  promotion  of  this  identical  one.  It  is  proper 
to  observe,  that  though  the  above-given  account  of  this  whole 
transaction  is  from  Nalson  Cole,  who  as  "  Register  to  the  Cor- 
poration of  Bedford  Level,"  was  doubtless  generally  well  in- 
formed, yet  that  it  differs  from  that  writer  in  stating  the  drain- 
age of  the  Level  to  have  been  nearly,  and  not  fully,  completed 
at  the  time  of  the  king's  interposition.  That  it  was  not  then 
fully  completed  appears  from  an  Act,  much  forwarded  by 
Cromwell,  in  1649,  which  runs  :  "  And  whereas  Francis,  late 
Earl  of  Bedford,  did  undertake  the  said  work,  and  had  ninety- 
five  thousand  acres,  parcel  of  the  said  great  level,  decreed  and 
set  forth,  in  the  thirteenth  of  the  late  King  Charles,  in  recom- 
pense thereof  ;  and  he  and  his  participators,  and  their  heirs 
and  assigns  had  made  a  good  progress  therein."  * 

Even  Mr.  Forster  puts  a  forced  construction  upon  Cromwell's 
opposition  to  the  king  ;  for  he  roused  up  the  country,  and  the 
draining  now  became  impossible.      His  name  was  sounded  to 

*  Tbomas  Cromwell's  "Life  of  Cromwell,"  pp.  70,  71. 


80  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

and  fro  as  a  second  Hereward.  He  was  long  after,  and  is  to 
this  day,  called  "the  Lord  of  the  Fens."  Why  was  this? 
There  could  be  nothing  in  the  mere  fact  of  opposing  the  making 
the  watery  wastes  habitable  calculated  to  arouse  so  stormy  an 
opposition.  The  thing  was  most  desirable  ;  but,  to  drain  them 
so — to  give  additional  power  to  the  bad  Crown — nay,  to  consent 
to  the  dishonest  forfeiture  of  the  lands  of  the  men  who  labored 
first  at  this  desirable  scheme  !  Here  was  the  cause  ! — the 
claim  of  the  king  is  unjust  I  It  is  not  wise  nor  right  that  the 
king  should  have  power  here.  Resist  him  and  his  commission- 
ers. Cromwell  did  ;  as  Hampden  said,  "  He  set  well  at  the 
mark,"  defeated  monarch  and  commissioners  ;  and,  after 
acquiring  no  small  degree  of  notice  and  fame,  he  retired  again 
into  obscurity  and  silence. 

Not  long  !  His  days  of  silence  and  quiet  were  now  well- 
nigli  over.  Charles  was  compelled  to  "  summon  a  Parlia- 
ment," he  wanted  money  ;  he  only  wanted  a  Parliament  to 
help  him  to  get  it  ; — it  was  long  since  a  Parliament  had  met. 
Parliament,  when  it  met,  determined  that  there  were  other 
things  to  which  to  attend  beside  granting  the  king  money  ; 
that  ominous  short  Parliament  was  a  memorable  one,  and  con- 
tained in  it  many  memorable  men,  Knolles,  Hampden,  Eliot, 
Selden,  and  Cromwell  as  member  for  Huntingdon.  This 
appearance  of  our  hero  was  but  for  a  very  brief  period,  but  it 
would  introduce  him  to  the  most  noticeable  men  of  the  popular 
interest.  Forster  has  drawn  a  portrait  in  which  there  is  great 
mingled  power,  freedom,  and  truth  ;  it  is  an  imaginary  sketch 
of  Oliver's  first  appearance  in  Parliament,  in  company  with  his 
cousin,  John  Hampden. 

"  Let  us  suppose,''  says  he,  "  that  he  and  Hampden  entered 
the  House  together  at  the  momentous  opening  of  that  famous 
Parliament — two  men  already  linked  together  by  the  bonds  of 
counsel  and  friendship,  yet  more  than  by  those  of  family,  but 
presenting  how  strange  a  contrast  to  each  other  in  all  things 
save  the  greatness  of  their  genius.  The  one  of  exquisite  mild 
deportment,  of  ever  civil  and  affable  manners,  with  a  counte- 


"THE    LORD    OF   THE    FENS."  81 

nance  that  at  once  expressed  the  dignity  of  his  intellect,  and 
the  sweetness  of  his  nature  ;  and  even  in  his  dress,  arranged 
with  scrupulous  nicety  and  care,  announcing  the  refinement  of 
his  mind.  The  other,  a  figure  of  no  mean  mark,  but  oh,  how 
unlike  that  !  His  gait  clownish,  his  dress  ill-made  and  slov- 
enly, his  manners  coarse  and  abrupt,  and  face  such  as  men  look 
on  with  a  vag-ue  feelino;  of  admiration  and  dislike  !  The  feat- 
ures  cut,  as  it  vvere,  out  of  a  piece  of  gnarled  and  knotty  oak  ; 
the  nose  large  and  red  ;  the  cheeks  coarse,  warted,  wrinkled, 
and  sallow  ;  the  eyebrows  huge  and  shaggy,  but,  glistening 
from  beneath  them,  eyes  full  of  depth  and  meaning,  and,  when 
turned  to  the  gaze,  pierced  through  and  through  the  gazer  ; 
above  these,  again,  a  noble  forehead,  whence,  on  either  side, 
an  open  flow  of  hair  '  round  from  his  parted  forelock  manly 
hangs,'  clustering  ;  and  over  all,  and  pervading  all,  that  un- 
definable  aspect  of  greatness,  alluded  to  by  the  poet  Dryden 
when  he  spoke  of  the  face  of  Cromwell  as  one  that 

.     .     .     .     '  did  imprint  an  awe, 
And  naturally  all  soials  to  his  did  bow, 
As  wands  of  divination  downward  draw. 
And  point  to  beds  where  sovereign  gold  doth  grow.' 

Imagine,  then,  these  two  extraordinary  men,  now  for  the  first 
time  together  passing  along  the  crowded  lobbies  of  that  most 
famous  assembly — Hampden  greeting  his  friends  as  he  passes, 
stopping  now  and  then,  perhaps,  to  introduce  his  country  kins- 
man to  the  few  whose  cariosity  had  mastered  the  first  emotion 
inspired  by  the  singular  stranger,  but  pushing  directly  forward 
toward  a  knot  of  active  and  eager  faces  that  are  clustered  round 
a  little  spot  near  the  bar  of  the  House,  on  the  right  of  the 
Speaker's  chair,  in  the  midst  of  which  stand  Sir  John  Eliot, 
Sir  Robert  Philips,  and  Pym.  The  crowd  made  way  for 
Hampden — the  central  figures  of  that  group  receive  him  among 
them  with  deference  and  gladness — he  introduces  his  cousin 
Cromwell — and,  among  the  great  spirits  whom  that  little  spot 
contains,  the  clownish  figure,  the  awkward  gait,  the  slovenly 


82  OLIVER   CROMWELL 

dress,  pass  utterly  unheeded  ;  for  in  his  first  few  words  they 
have  discovered  the  fervor,  and  perhaps  suspected  the  greatness, 
of  this  accession  to  their  cause." 

The  brief  interruption  to  Cromwell's  silent  life,  his  return 
for  the  borough  of  Huntingdon,  was,  as  we  have  seen  and  said, 
the  only  one,  imtil  he  took  his  seat  in  the  fourth  Parliament  of 
Charles  I.  for  Cambridge.  His  election  was  most  obstinately 
contested,  and  he  was  returned  at  last  by  the  majority  of  a 
single  vote  ;  his  antagonist  was  Cleaveland,  the  poet.  "  That 
vote,"  exclaimed  Cleaveland,  "  hath  ruined  both  Church  and 
kingdom." 

One  is  inclined  to  inquire,  what  then  had  been  the  conse- 
quence had  Cromwell  not  been  returned  ;  yet,  perhaps,  the 
consequence  had  not  been  materially  different,  for  the  Parlia- 
mentary duties  appear  to  have  sat  very  lightly  upon  him.  He 
spoke  but  seldom,  and  briefly  ;  it  was  without,  in  the  world, 
among  the  people  in  decided  action,  that  he  appeared  greatest. 
The  particulars  of  him  at  this  time  are  very  full.  A  Royalist 
contemporary.  Sir  Philip  Warwick,  writes  thus  :  "  The  first 
time  I  ever  took  notice  of  him  was  in  the  beginning  of  the 
Parliament  held  in  November,  1640,  when  I  vainly  thought 
myself  a  courtly  young  gentleman  (for  we  courtiers  valued  our- 
selves much  upon  our  good  clothes).  I  came  into  the  House 
one  morning,  well  clad,  and  perceived  a  gentleman  speaking 
whom  I  knew  not,  very  ordinarily  apparelled  ;  for  it  was  a 
plain  cloth  suit,  which  seemed  to  have  been  made  by  an  ill 
country  tailor  ;  his  linen  was  plain,  and  not  very  clean  ;  and  I 
remember  a  speck  or  two  of  blood  upon  his  little  band,  which 
was  not  much  larger  than  his  collar  ;  his  hat  was  without  a  hat- 
hand.  His  stature  was  of  a  good  size  ;  sword  stuck  close  to 
his  side  ;  his  countenance  swollen  and  reddish  ;  his  voice  sharp 
and  untuneable  ;  and  his  eloquence  full  of  fervor — for  the  sub- 
ject matter  would  not  bear  much  of  reason,  it  being  in  behalf 
of  a  servant  of  Mr.  Prynne's,  who  had  dispersed  libels  against 
the  Queen  for  her  dancing,  and  such  like  innocent  and  courtly 
sports  ;  and  he  aggravated  the  imprisonment  of  his  man  by  the 


"THE    LOED    OF   THE    FENS."  83 

council  table  to  that  height,  that  one  would  have  believed  the 
very  Government  itself  had  been  in  great  danger  by  it.  I  sin- 
cerely profess  it  lessened  my  reverence  unto  that  great  council, 
for  he  was  very  much  hearkened  unto.  And  yet  I  lived  to  see 
this  very  gentleman,  whom,  out  of  no  ill  will  to  him,  I  thus 
describe,  by  multiplied  good  success,  and  by  real  but  usurped 
power  (having  had  a  better  tailor,  and  more  converse  among 
good  company)  in  my  own  eye,  when  for  six  weeks  together  I 
was  a  prisoner  in  his  sergeant's  hands,  and  daily  waited  at 
Whitehall,  appear  of  a  great  and  majestic  deportment  and 
comely  presence."  * 

This  description  of  Cromwell's  negligence  in  the  article  of 
dress  is  corroborated  by  the  story  we  have  already  told  that 
Lord  Digby,  one  day  going  down  the  stairs  of  the  Parliament 
House  with  Hampden,  and  inquiring  of  the  latter,  not  knowing 
Oliver  personally,  who  "  that  sloven"  was — "  That  sloven,^'' 
replied  Hampden,  "  whom  you  see  before  you,  that  sloven,  I 
say,  if  we  should  ever  come  to  a  breach  with  the  king,  which 
God  forbid  I — in  such  a  case,  I  say,  that  sloven  will  be  the 
greatest  man  in  England." 

And  to  quote  once  more  :  a  passage  from  one  of  Dr.  South's 
sermons  will  give  us  a  hint  of  the  general  estimation  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  future  Protector  ;  that  same  South,  by  the  bye, 
who  wrote  a  fine  Latin  eulogy  upon  the  "  bankrupt,  beggarly 
fellow"  at  the  time  Cromwell  was  Chancellor  of  Oxford  and 
Magistrate  of  Great  Britain.  "  Who,"  said  that  conscientious 
divine,  "  who  that  had  beheld  such  a  bankrupt,  beggarly  fellow 
as  Cromwell,  first  entering  the  Parliament  House,  with  a 
threadbare  torn  coat  and  a  greasy  hat  (and  perhaps  neither  of 
them  paid  for),  could  have  suspected  that  in  the  course  of  so 
few  years  he  should,  by  the  murder  of  one  king  and  the  ban- 
ishment of  another,  ascend  the  throne,  be  invested  with  royal 
robes,  and  want  nothing  of  the  state  of  a  king  but  the  chang- 
ing of  his  hat  into  a  crown. "     "  '  Odds  fish.  Lory  !  '  exclaimed 

*  See  "Memoirs  of  Su-  Philip  Warwick." 


84  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

the  laughing  Charles,  when  he  heard  this  from  the  divine  who 
had  panegyrized  the  living  Protector  ;  '  odds  fish,  man  !  your 
chaplain  must  be  a  bishop.  Put  me  in  mind  of  him  at  the  next 
vacancy.'  Oh,  glorious  time  for  the  Church  !  Oh,  golden 
age  for  the  Profligate  and  the  Slave  !"  * 

There,  then,  you  see  him  in  the  House,  that  famous  Long 
Parliament — the  most  remarkable  Parliament  ever  summoned 
to  sit  in  the  history  of  the  English  nation.  By  this  time,  you 
may  be  sure,  Cromwell  and  Hampden  were  the  two  most  noted 
men  of  the  popular  party  :  the  one  the  def eater  of  the  king  in 
the  lordship  of  the  fens,  and  the  other  a  still  more  celebrated 
man  from  his  supposed  defeat  by  the  king  in  the  affair  of  the 
ship-money,  an  unjust  subsidy  levied  by  the  king,  and  stoutly 
challenged  by  John  Hampden  on  behalf  of  all  England.  There 
was  need  for  action  ;  the  king  had  extended  the  forests  of  the 
country,  at  the  same  time  he  cut  down  from  the  forest  land  the 
trees,  and  thus  destroyed  the  store  of  the  country's  shipping. 
By  the  gross  illegal  seizure  of  ship-money,  he  secured  to  him- 
self £700,000  per  annum,  while  our  seas  were  left  unguarded, 
and  Turkish  pirates  ranged  them  uncontrolled.  Charles  was 
determined  to  govern  by  prerogative,  and  not  by  Parliament. 
He  sold  privileges  for  every  unjust  exaction.  A  patent  for  the 
manufacture  of  soap  was  sold  ;  a  very  sad  atfliction  indeed,  for 
in  addition  to  the  costly  price  from  the  existence  of  the  mo- 
nopoly for  which  £10,000  had  been  paid,  the  linen  had  been 
burned,  and  the  flesh  as  well,  in  the  washing  ;  so  that  the  city 
of  London  was  visited  by  an  insurrection  of  women,  and  the 
Lord  Mayor  was  reprimanded  by  the  king  because  he  gave 
them  his  symi  athy.  Every  item  almost  was  taxed.  Hackney 
coaches  were  prohibited  because  sedan  chairs  appeared  for  the 
first  time — Sir  Sanders  Buncombe  having  purchased  from  the 
king  the  right  to  carry  people  up  and  down  in  them.  We  can- 
not catalogue  all  the  profitable  items  of  little  tyranny.  It  was 
an  exasperating  time. 

*  Forster. 


"THE  LOED   OF  THE   FENS."  85 

And  in  that  Long  Parliament,  what  things  were  to  pass  be- 
fore Cromwell's  eye  before  the  last  decisive  steps  were  taken  ! 
How  must  even  his  energetic  mind  have  received  new  and  in- 
vigorating impulses  from  finding  himself  surrounded  by  so 
many  brave  and  daring  companions.  Scarcely,  indeed,  had 
the  Parliament  met,  before  it  proceeded  to  impeach  Strafford, 
that  mighty  master-stroke,  by  which  the  powerful  oppressor 
was  in  a  moment  cast  down — a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the 
people  whose  liberties  he  had  so  repeatedly  outraged,  and  so 
daringly  and  contemptuously  scoffed  at  and  insulted — a  pris- 
oner, until  liberated  only  by  the  hands  of  the  executioner. 
Daring  indeed  were  the  deeds  of  this  Parliament  :  "  A  Bill 
was  proposed,"  says  Guizot,  in  his  summary  "  History  of  the 
English  Revolution,"  "January  19th,  1G41,  which  prescribed 
the  calling  a  Parliament  '  every  three  years,  at  most.'  If  the 
king  did  not  convoke  one,  twelve  peers,  assembled  in  West- 
minster, might  summon  one  without  his  co-operation  ;  in  de- 
fault of  this,  the  sheriffs  and  municipal  officers  were  to  proceed 
with  the  elections.  If  the  sheriffs  neglected  to  see  to  it,  the 
citizens  had  a  right  to  assemble  and  elect  representatives.  No 
Parliament  could  be  dissolved  or  adjourned  without  the  con- 
sent of  the  two  Houses,  till  fifty  days  after  its  meeting  ;  and  to 
the  Houses  alone  belonged  the  choice  of  their  respective 
Speakers.  At  the  first  news  of  this  Bill,  the  king  quitted  the 
silence  in  which  he  had  shut  himself  up,  and  assembling  both 
Houses  at  Whitehall,  January  23d,  said  :  '  I  like  to  have  fre- 
quent Parliaments,  as  the  best  means  to  preserve  that  right  un- 
derstanding between  me  and  my  subjects  which  I  so  earnestly 
desire.  But  to  give  power  to  sheriffs  and  constables,  and  I 
know  not  whom,  to  do  my  office,  that  I  cannot  yield  to.'  The 
House  only  saw  in  these  words  a  new  motive  to  press  forward 
the  adoption  of  the  Bill.  None  dared  counsel  the  king  to 
refuse  it  ;  he  yielded,  but  in  doing  so,  thought  it  due  to  his 
dignity  to  show  the  extent  of  his  displeasure.  He  said,  '  I  do 
not  know  for  what  you  can  ask,  that  I  can  hereafter  make  any 
question  to  yield  unto   you  ;    so   far,    truly,   I  have  had  no 


86  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

encouragement  to  oblig-e  you,  for  3'ou  have  gone  on  in  that 
which  concerns  yourselves,  and  not  those  things  which  merely 
concern  the  streno'th  of  this  kingdom.  You  have  taken  the 
government  almost  to  pieces,  and  I  may  say,  it  is  almost  off  its 
hinges.  A  skilful  watchmaker,  to  make  clean  his  watch  will 
take  it  asunder,  and  when  it  is  put  together  again  it  will  go  all 
the  better,  so  that  he  leaves  not  out  one  pin  of  it.  Now,  as  I 
have  done  my  part,  you  know  what  to  do  on  yours.' — Febru- 
ary 16th,  1G41. 

"  The  Houses  passed  a  vote  of  thanks  to  the  king,  and  forth- 
with proceeded  in  the  work  of  reform,  demanding,  'u\  succes- 
sive motions,  the  abolition  of  the  Star  Chamber,  of  the  North 
Court,  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Court  of  High  Commission,  and  of 
all  extraordinary  tribunals." 

Charles  found  that  the  dismissal  of  his  previous  Parliament 
was  one  of  the  most  ill-judged  actions  of  his  life.  In  this 
Long  Parliament  the  same  men  were  brought  together,  all  of 
them  who  possessed  any  influence  or  power  ;  but  whereas  they 
came  first  prepared  to  conciliate  and  deal  with  the  king  gen- 
erously and  loyally,  they  came  now  prepared  to  trim  down  to 
the  utmost  all  his  prerogatives,  and  to  extend  and  assert  to  the 
utmost  the  power  of  the  people.  It  was  the  great  battle-time 
of  liberty  and  absolutism — the  trial  of  monarchy  and  democ- 
racy. The  king,  beyond  all  question,  pushed  and  urged  his 
power  to  extremes,  and  so  hurried  the  popular  party  on  far  be- 
yond their  original  intention  and  design.  We  have  the  famous 
"  Remonstrance  of  the  state  of  the  kingdom,"  which,  after  a 
debate,  stormy  beyond  all  precedent,  was  carried  through  the 
House  by  the  small  and  little  satisfactory  majority  of  nine  ; 
only  this  remonstrance  was  a  direct  elevation  of  the  democratic 
over  the  aristocratic  interests  of  the  country.  It  was  ordered 
to  be  printed  and  published,  with  the  concurrence  of  the  upper 
House,  and  was,  in  fact,  an  apj^eal  to  the  people  against  the  king. 
But  this,  which  so  many  have  deprecated  as  wickedly  unloyal 
and  traitorous,  was  called  for  by  the  conduct  of  the  king,  who, 
during  his  absence  in  Scotland,  in  the  time  of  its  preparation, 


"THE    LORD   OF   THE   FENS.''  87 

was  known  to  be  attempting  to  curb  the  power  of  the  Parlia- 
ment by  the  raising  of  a  northern  army. 

The  Grand  Remonstrance  has  been  but  little  understood. 
Yet  what  more  natural,  what  more  necessary,  than  the  Remon- 
strance ?  It  was  the  solemn  call  of  the  powerful  spirits  of  the 
legislature  to  the  king  and  to  the  nation  to  consider.  The 
principles  of  the  Remonstrance  are  now  well  known.  It  is  a 
solemn  catalogue  of  the  evils  and  the  tyranny  beneath  which 
the  people  groaned.  Speaking  of  the  taxes,  Sir  John  Culpep- 
per, a  Royalist,  says,  ' '  The  taxes,  like  the  frogs  of  Egypt, 
have  gotten  possession  of  our  dwellings,  and  we  have  scarcely 
a  room  free  from  them.  They  sip  in  our  cup,  they  dip  in  our 
dish,  they  sit  by  our  fire  ;  we  find  them  in  the  dye  vat,  wash- 
ing bowl,  and  powdering  box  ;  they  share  with  the  butler  in 
the  pantry,  they  have  marked  us  from  head  to  foot,  they  will 
not  bate  us  a  pin."  The  sovereign  was  bent  on  every  illegal 
means  of  raising  money.  Yet  the  Long  Parliament,  after  a 
very  imperious  speech  from  the  king,  voted  him  five  subsidies, 
£350,000.  It  was  an  enormous  sum  for  those  days.  Surely 
such  men  deserved  some  confidence.  But  the  king  would  not 
halt  on  his  grasping  and  suicidal  way. 

At  this  juncture  the  bishops  precipitated  matters  by  their 
imwise  "  Protestation,"  addressed,  by  twelve  of  their  number, 
to  the  Upper  House,  a  protestation  which  the  peers  them- 
selves, in  a  conference  they  held  upon  the  matter,  declared  to 
contain  "  matters  of  dangerous  consequence,  extending  to  the 
deep  entrenching  upon  the  fundamental  privileges  and  being  of 
parliaments."  As  to  the  bishops  themselves,  the  Commons 
accused  them  of  high  treason,  and  on  the  next  day  ten  of  them 
were  sent  to  the  Tower,  the  two  others,  in  regard  to  their  great 
age,  being  committed  to  the  custody  of  the  Black  Rod. 

Rapidly  now  came  on  the  tug  of  war.  The  king  issued  a 
declaration  in  reply  to  the  Remonstrance.  He  sent  the  Attor- 
ney-General to  the  House  of  Lords  to  impeach  one  of  the  pop- 
ular members,  Lord  Kimbolton,  together  with  Hampden,  Pym, 
and   three   other   members   of  the   Lower   House  ;  and,   as  if 


88  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

determined  that  no  act  of  his  should  be  wanting  to  justify  the 
opposition  of  his  enemies,  he  went  next  day  to  the  House  of 
Commons,  attended  by  desperadoes — "  soldiers  of  fortune" — 
armed  with  partisan,  pistol,  and  sword,  to  seize  the  members 
denoun'ced.  This  scene  has  been  so  often  described  that  it 
were  quite  a  work  of  supererogation  to  describe  it  again  here. 
Let  all  be  summed  up  in  a  word.  Reconciliation  between  the 
king  and  the  Parliament  was  now  impossible.  The  privileges 
of  the  House  had  been  violated  in  a  manner  in  which  no  mon- 
arch had  dared  to  violate  them  before.  And  such  a  Parlia- 
ment ! — men  of  the  most  distinguished  courage  and  intelligence 
in  the  kingdom.  The  members  he  sought  had  escaped  through 
the  window.  They  fled  in  haste  to  the  city.  Thither  the 
most  distinguished  members  of  the  House  followed  them. 
They  were  protected  by  the  Common  Council  from  the  king, 
who  himself  followed  them  to  the  city,  demanding  their 
bodies  :  but  in  vain.  He  was  his  own  officer,  both  of  military 
and  police  ;  but  as  he  went  along,  the  growls  of  "  Privilege, 
privilege — privilege  of  Parliament,"  greeted  him  everywhere. 
One  of  the  crowd,  bolder  than  the  rest,  approached  his  car- 
riage, shouting,  "  To  your  tents,  O  Israel  !"  The  king  had 
given  the  last  drop  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  contempt  with 
which  he  was  regarded.  He  had  struggled  with  his  Parlia- 
ment, and  he  was  unsuccessful.  Here  was  a  hint  for  such  men 
to  act  upon  ;  and  petitions  from  all  parts  of  the  land  poured 
in,  from  vast  bodies  of  the  people,  declaring  their  intention  to 
stand  by  the  Parliament  :  from  counties,  cities,  towns, 
parishes,  trades  ;  the  porters  petitioned  ;  the  watermen  {water- 
rats,  Charles  called  them)  petitioned.  And  we  may  gather  the 
state  of  domestic  confusion  from  the  fact  that  the  women  peti- 
tioned. The  mind  of  the  countrv  was  roused  against  the  mon- 
arch.  Meantime  the  exiled  members  were  brouo-ht  back  in 
triumph  to  the  House,  amid  the  pealing  of  martial  music,  flags 
waving  from  the  mastheads  of  all  the  vessels  on  the  river,  the 
masts  coverod  with  shouting  sailors,  and  the  long  procession  of 
city  barges — for  at  that  day  most  great  triumphal  processions 


''THE    LOKD    OF   THE    FENS."  80 

took  place  on  the  Thames  ;  and  while  the  five  members 
stepped  into  the  House,  the  House  rising  to  receive  them, 
Charles  fled  to  Hampton  Court,  nor  did  he  see  his  palace  at 
Whitehall  again  until  he  beheld  it  as  a  prisoner,  and  stepped 
from  its  banqueting-house  to  a  scaffold. 

We  have  no  idea,  in  these  pages,  of  presenting  to  the  reader 
a  history  of  the  times  ;  but  in  this  running  stream  of  incident 
he  will  be  able  to  gather  the  description  of  the  platform  pii  - 
paring  for  the  deeds  of  Cromwell.  Of  course  the  House  was 
emboldened  by  its  triumph.  It  no  doubt  judged  that  Charles, 
by  his  ignorance  and  his  injudiciousness,  had  made  himsoU 
unfit  to  guide  the  affairs  of  the  nation,  and  the  demands  of  the 
House  were  therefore  now  proportioned  to  their  triumphs. 
They  demanded  the  keeping  of  the  Tower  and  all  the  principal 
fortresses  of  the  kingdom.  They  demanded  the  choosing  and 
control  of  the  militia,  the  army  and  navy  then  being  so  called. 
And  upon  the  king's  refusal,  the  House  conferred  upon  them- 
selves the  powers  they  had  desired.  He  issued  a  proclamation 
against  them,  which  was  in  turn  declared  to  be  void  in  law. 
The  king  now  left  Hampton  Court,  proceeding  toward  York. 
He  appeared  before  Hull,  hoping  by  surprise  to  obtain  posses- 
sion of  a  large  quantity  of  military  stores  deposited  there. 
Thus  the  king  begun  the  work  of  insurrection.  The  Parlia- 
ment, in  anticipation  of  the  king's  design,  directed  the  several 
counties  to  array,  train,  and  muster  the  people,  as  in  cases  of 
domestic  insurrection.  And  the  king  retorted  upon  the  Parlia- 
ment by  issuing  a  proclamation  for  suppressing  the  rebellion  ; 
and  shortly  after,  coming  to  Nottingham,  he  there  erected  his 
standard,  August  25th,  1642,  in  the  midst  of  a  loud  storm, 
which,  as  none  failed  to  notice,  blew  it  down  the  same  even- 
ing. Thus  he  began  the  CiviJ  War.  Cromwell,  at  this  time, 
was  forty-three  years  of  age. 

•  It  is  not  clear  that  even  yet  Charles  suspected  the  dangers  his 
rashness  so  persistently  invoked.  The  reader  has,  perhaps, 
heard  how,  once  upon  a  time,  a  London  exquisite  descended 
into  a  coal  mine  on  a  voyage  of  exploration  and  discovery  ; 


90  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

he  saw  everything — Davy  lamps,  blind  horses,  trucks  of  coa) 
rolling  along  subterranean  tramways.  Seated  on  a  cask  to 
rest  himself,  he  proceeded  to  question  the  swarthy  miner,  -who 
was  his  conductor,  concerning  many  things,  and  especially 
about  the  operation  of  blasting.  "  And  whereabouts,  my 
man;"  condescendingly  said  he,  "whereabouts  do  you  keep 
your  powder?"  "Please,  sir,"  replied  the  swart  one, 
"  you're  a-sittin'  on  it  !"  Charles  was  in  a  world  to  him  all 
dark  and  subterranean,  and  sitting  a  powder-mine,  of  the 
existence  of  which  he  had  no  knowledge,  although  it  was  be- 
neath his  throne. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Cromwell's  contemporaries  :  john  pym. 

As  in  a  great  picture,  while  some  central  character  stands  in 
the  foreground,  and  is  evidently  understood  to  be  the  towering 
and  commanding  spirit  around  whom  ultimately  all  the  inferior 
characters  revolve,  yet  nearer  or  more  remote,  more  conspicuous 
or  more  dimly  seen,  a  number  of  persons  take  their  place  on 
the  canvas  ;  so  in  the  life  of  Cromwell  there  were  precursors, 
heralds,  men  with  whom  he  labored,  men  who  passed  away, 
and  left  him,  lonely,  to  meditate  upon  what  they  had  done, 
and  to  take  his  own  course  as  to  what  he  must  do.  Lord 
Beaconsfield  once  said  of  Sir  Robert  Peel,  that  he  was  the 
greatest  member  of  Parliament  that  ever  lived.  It  was  an 
amazing  estimate,  and  in  the  memory  of  such  men  as  Walpole, 
and  the  elder  and  the  younger  Pitt,  not  to  mention  more  recent 
names,  it  must  be  regarded  as  an  astonishing  exaggeration  ; 
but  there  was  a  man  during  the  vexed  years  of  which  we  are 
writing  of  whom  this  might  most  truly  be  said.  John  Pym 
is,  probably,  the  name  of  the  greatest  member  of  Parliament 
that  ever  lived  ;  "  King  Pym"  they  called  him  in  his  own 
time,  and  indeed  he  looks,  among  the  circumstances  of  his 
age,  like  the  monarch  of  the  scene.  Like  all  of  those  men 
whom  Charles  managed  to  make  his  enemies,  Pym  was  a 
gentleman,  born  of  a  good  old  family  in  Somersetshire,  in  the 
year  1584  ;  he  studied  at  Oxford  in  Pembroke  College,  but 
like  Hampden  and  Vane  and  Cromwell,  he  left  his  University 
without  taking  his  degree.  Milton  was  almost  the  only  excep- 
tion, he  took  his  B.A.  and  his  M.A.  Pym  w-as  very  early 
distinguished  for  his  eloquence  and  knowledge  of  common  law  ; 
he  soon  took  his  seat  in  Parliament,  serving  in  those  held 
during  the  close  of  the  reign  of  James  I. ,  and  all  those  held  in 
the  reign  of  Charles  L     It  is  true,  that  which  has  been  so 


92  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

often  said,  that  no  business  was  too  large,  and  none  too  small, 
for  him.  As  one  after  another  the  men  appear  before  our  eyes 
with  whom  Charles  I.  arrayed  himself  in  conflict,  one  cannot 
but  feel  pity  for  the  king  :  in  every  way  he  seems  so  small  and 
they  appear  so  great.  Of  them  all,  to  some  Pym  has  seemed 
the  greatest  ;  and  after  his  life  of  conflict,  "  he  was  buried," 
says  Lord  Bulwer  Lytton,  "  at  Westminster,  among  the 
monuments  of  kings  feebler  and  less  despotic  than  himself." 
It  is  said  that  he,  too,  in  the  earlier  period  of  his  career,  was 
one  of  those  who  despaired  of  his  country,  and  with  Cromwell, 
Hampden,  and  others,  desired  to  embark  for  America  ;  the 
tradition  is,  as  our  readers  doubtless  know,  that  the  ships  in 
which  they  were  about  to  sail  were  detained  by  order  of 
Council.  However  this  might  be,  it  was  Pym  who  at  last,  in 
the  Long  Parliament,  attempted  the  great  work  of  reforma- 
tion ;  and  Lord  Clarendon  recites  a  conversation  he  had  with 
Pym  in  Westminster  Hall,  apparently  in  the  early  days  of  the 
Long  Parliament,  in  which  Pym  said,  "  They  must  now  be  of 
another  temper  than  they  were  the  last  Parliament  ;  that  they 
must  not  only  sweep  the  House  clean  below,  but  must  pull 
down  all  the  cobwebs  which  hung  in  the  top  and  corners,  that 
they  might  not  breed  dust  and  so  make  a  foul  House  hereafter  ; 
that  they  now  had  an  opportunity  to  make  their  country  happy 
by  remioving  all  grievances,  and  pulling  up  the  causes  of  them 
by  the  roots,  if  all  men  would  do  their  duties." 

This  Parliament  met  ;  it  was  long,  many  years,  since  Parlia- 
ment had  assembled  last.  What  gaps  Pym  would  notice  in  the 
lines  of  his  early  friends  who  had  sat  there  when  the  House 
then  assembled.  The  venerable  Coke  was  dead  ;  Sir  John 
Eliot  had  died  in  prison,  a  martyr  to  the  cause  of  which  they 
had  both  been  champions  ;  Sir  Thomas  Wentworth,  who  had 
started  in  life  with  the  same  party,  had  fallen  away — he  was  an 
apostate,  he  was  now  the  Earl  of  Strafford,  regarded  as  a 
fallen  spirit,  and  as  the  deadliest,  the  most  powerful  and  dan- 
gerous enemy  of  those  who  had  been  the  friends  of  his  youth. 
All  these  circumstances  would  add,  if  anything  were  needed  to 


HIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :   JOHN     I'YM.  93 

add,  intensity  and  vehemence  to  liis  convictiuns  and  his  deter- 
minations. It  was  Pyra  who  commenced  in  this  Parhament, 
and  rapidly  pushed  on,  the  discussion  of  the  grievances  which 
oppressed  the  country  ;  and  on  the  '/th  of  November,  the  first 
day  on  which  the  House  attended  to  business,  it  was  Pvni  who 
made  a  long  and  elaborate  speech,  classing  the  grievances  under 
privilege  of  Parliament,  Religion,  and  Liberty  of  the  Subject. 
On  the  11th  he  made  a  sadden  motion  to  the  House  with 
reference  to  that  which  had  come  to  his  knowledge  of  the 
imperious  actions  of  Strafford  both  in  England  and  in  Ireland  ; 
and  while  at  this  very  moment  a  message  came  from  the  Lords 
concerning  a  treaty  with  the  Scots,  and  desiring  a  meeting  of 
a  Committee  of  both  Houses  that  afternoon,  it  was  at  the 
instance  of  Pym  a  message  was  returned  to  the  Lords  that  the 
House  had  taken  into  consideration  their  message,  but  that 
they  were  in  agitation  upon  weighty  and  important  business, 
that  they  could  not  give  them  the  meeting  they  desired  on  that 
afternoon,  but  they  would  shortly  send  an  answer  by  messen- 
gers of  their  own.  And  messengers  they  shortly  sent,  Pym 
himself  being  the  chief,  who  was  chosen  to  carry  up  on  that 
very  day  the  impeachment  of  Strafford  for  higli  treason.  Dr. 
Southey  calls  the  impeachment  and  the  death  of  Strafford  one 
of  the  deadly  sins  of  the  Long  Parliament.  The  question  may 
be  asked,  then,  Why  was  Strafford  impeached  ?  Why  did  he 
suffer  death  ?  In  one  word,  because  he  advised  the  king  to 
resist  his  subjects,  and  to  be  so  independent  of  and  paramount 
over  law,  as  to  call  in  the  aid  of  Irish  forces,  or  any  forces,  to 
subdue  his  country  :  a  dreadful  counsel  which,  when  we 
remember,  we  cannot  but  marvel  at  the  apologists  for  its  base- 
ness. He,  without  doubt,  advised  the  king  that  he  was  now 
absolved  from  all  rule  of  government,  and  entitled  to  supply 
himself  out  of  the  estates  of  his  subjects  without  their  consent. 
Did  space  permit,  we  ought  to  devote  a  more  lengthy  episode 
to  the  life  and  career  of  Strafford  ;  he  was  a  great  man,  but  he 
was  no  match  for  Pym.  As  to  the  wisdom  of  his  death,  we 
shall    forbear   to    express   an    opinion  ;  he    might    have   been 


94  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

banished,  but  everywhere,  while  he  lived,  he  must  have  been 
dangerous.*  Upon  all  this  we  need  only  dwell  for  the  purpose 
of  pointing  out  how  Pym  was  the  animating  spirit  in  those 
transactions  which  brought  about  such  tremendous  results.  It 
was  after  this  that  the  king,  no  doubt  attempting  the  danger- 
ous work  of  reprisals  and  revenge,  attempted  to  attach  Pym 
and  the  other  members  for  high  treason.  The  attempt  failed 
most  miserably  ;  but  it  should  be  remembered  that  when  Pym 
commenced  even  his  more  aggressive  career  he  was  a  moderate 
man.  The  king  urged  these  men  along,  by  his  unwisdom  and 
imprudence,  on  the  course  they  were  compelled  to  take  ;  and 
thus  Pym  was  rapidly  carried  along  in  a  course  of  action  far 
outstripping  the  theoretical  opinions  he  professed  to  hold.  He 
insisted  originally  on  the  sanctity  of  the  Constitution,  and  he 
labored  to  maintain  it  ;  but,  when  circumstances  are  thrown 
into  vehement  agitation  and  strife,  it  becomes  impossible  to 
regulate  action  by  that  calm  and  quiet  settlement  of  affairs  dic- 
tated either  in  the  stillness  of  the  study,  or  when  events  flow 
along  imperturbed  by  the  excitements  and  passions  of  great 
party  strife. 

*  Those  who  would  prosecute  these  studies  further,  should  read 
Dr.  John  Stoughton's  volumes  of  the  "  History  of  the  Church  under 
the  Civil  Wars."  They  are  delightful  reading,  but  iie  sums  up 
against  the  policy  of  Strafford's  death. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    TRAINING    OF    THE    IRONSIDES. 

But  before  this  time  Cromwell  had  foreseen  the  destinies  of 
the  contest,  and  from  among  the  freeholders  and  their  sons  in 
his  own  neighborhood  he  formed  his  immortal  troop  of  Iron- 
sides, those  men  who  in  many  a  well-fought  field  turned  the 
tide  of  conflict,  men  who  "  jeopardized  their  lives  on  the  high 
places  of  the  field."  These  men  were  peculiarly  moulded  ; 
their  training  was  even  more  religious  than  military  ;  they 
were  men  of  position  and  character.  Oliver  preached  to  them, 
prayed  with  them,  directed  their  vision  to  all  the  desperate  and 
difficult  embroilments  of  the  times.  These  men  were  Puritans 
all  ;  Independents  ;  men  who,  however  painful  it  may  be  to 
our  more  Christian  notions,  used  their  Bible  as  a  matchlock, 
and  relieved  their  guard  by  revolving  texts  of  Holy  Writ,  and 
refreshed  their  courage  by  draughts  from  God's  Book. 

Oliver  said,  at  a  later  time,  he  saw  that  all  the  cavaliers  were 
a  dissipated,  godless  race  of  men  ;  there  could  be  no  hope  for 
success  but  in  religious  and  godly  men.  He  allied  the  cause  of 
Puritanism  to  such  an  enthusiasm,  such  a  blaze  of  martial 
glory,  that  indeed  they  could  be  no  other  than  irresistible. 
They  grasped  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  the  Word  of  God  ;  they 
held  communion  with  the  skies,  these  men.  What  !  shall  we 
compare  Tancreds,  and  Tvanhoes,  and  Red  Cross  Knights  with 
these  realities,  this  band  of  Puritan  Havelocks  ?  Not  soldiers 
of  a  tournament  were  they  ;  in  very  deed  fighting  against 
"  principalities,  and  powers,  and  spiritual  wickedness  in  high 
places  ;"  theirs  was  a  piety  exasperated  to  enthusiasm,  and 
blazing  at  last  into  warlike  vehemence  !  Then  the  Civil  War 
was  up  in  earnest,  and  Oliver  soon  found  work.  Since  the  last 
civil  wars,  the  battles  of  the  Roses,  several  generations  had 
passed  away,  and   England  had  grown   in  wealth  and  power  ; 


96  OLIVER    CEOMWELL. 

but  widely  different  were  the  interests  represented  by  the  two 
contests  to  the  mind  :  this  was  the  struggle,  indeed,  with  the 
last  faint  life  of  feudalism.  In  some  sort  the  contest  of  the 
city  and  the  castle  was  represented  even  by  the  Wars  of  the 
Roses  ;  but  much  more  here,  and  hence  over  the  whole  land 
soon  passed  the  echoes  of  strife.  Old  villages  that  had  slept 
quietly  for  centuries  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  church  spire  or 
tower  ;  old  halls,  famous  for  the  good  cheer  and  merry  songs 
of  roistering  Christmas  time  ;  fields,. spreading  wide  with  the 
rich  herbage,  and  green  meadow-land — all  these  were  dyed  with 
blood.  The  river  that  had  for  ages  crept  lazily  along  through 
the  woodland  became  choked  with  the  bodies  of  the  dead  and 
crimsoned  with  the  blood  of  the  slain.  Winding  round  many 
a  graceful  bend  of  the  road,  where  nature  had  touched  the 
scene  with  tenderness,  the  Roundhead,  clad  in  iron,  saw  the 
waving  plume  of  Cavalier.  Soon  the  two  straggling  parties 
were  locked  in  deadly  conflict,  and  the  spot  became  memorable 
for  ages  for  the  blood  shed  in  a  skirmish  which  could  not  be 
dignified  by  the  name  of  a  battle.  Throughout  the  land 
family  ties  were  severed  ;  everywhere  "  a  man's  foes  were  of 
his  own  household."  "  Old  armor  came  down  from  a  thou- 
sand old  walls,  and  clanked  upon  the  anvil  of  every  village 
smithy  ;"  "  boot  and  saddle  !"  was  the  order  of  the  day  and 
night  ;  every  buff  coat,  and  every  piece  of  steel  that  could 
turn,  or  deal  a  blow,  became  of  value.  Even  the  long-bow, 
th.'  brown  bill,  and  cross-bow,  resumed  their  almost  forgotten 
use  ;  rude  spears,  and  common  staves,  and  Danish"  clubs 
assumed  the  rank  of  weapons.  The  trumpets  of  the  Cavaliers 
rang  out  fearlessly  through  the  half  of  England,  and  thrilled 
the  spirits  of  the  people  with  the  cries  of  loyalty  ;  responded 
to  by  the  shrill  blast  of  the  Roundhead,  and  the  cry  of  liberty.  - 
"Those,"  says  Carlyle,  "  were  the  most  confused  months- 
England  ever  saw  ;"  in  every  shire,  in  every  parish,  in  court- 
houses, ale-houses,  churches,  and  markets,  wheresoever  men 
were  gathered  together.  England  was,  with  sorrowful  confu- 
sion in  every  fibre,  tearing  itself  into  hostile  halves,  to  carry  on 


THE  TRAINIJfG   OF  THE   IllONSlDES.  97 

the  voting  by  pike  and  bullet  henceforth.  The  spirit  of  war 
stalked  forth  ;  many  times  we  find  the  record  of  men  who  slew 
an  enemy,  and  foimd  a  parent  in  the  corpse  they  were  about  to 
spoil.  The  face  of  nature  became  changed,  and  peaceful 
homesteads  and  quiet  villages  assumed  a  rough,  hostile  look  ; 
and  the  old  familiar  scene  rang  with  the  fatal,  fascinating 
bugle-notes  of  war.  Every  house  of  strength  became  a  for- 
tress, and  every  household  a  garrison. 

Romance  and-  poetry  have  woven  gay  garlands  and  sung 
highly  wi ought  and  glowing  melodies  around  the  achievements 
of  knighthood  and  chivalry  ;  but  romance  and  poetry  shrink 
back  startled  and  appalled  before  the  deeds  of  the  mighty 
Puritan  heroes,  the  Ironsides  of  Cromwell,  a  race  of  Artegals, 
ov  Men  in  Iron.  The  carnal  mind  of  tlie  succeeding  century 
has  succeeded  in  defacing  the  features  and  soiling  the  fair  fame 
of  the  knighthood  of  Puritanism  ;  but  do  you  not  think  that 
the  soldiers  of  the  Cross  may  deserve  words  as  eloquent,  and 
song  as  soul-kindling,  as  those  which  echoed  around  the  rabble 
rout  of  the  stranfje  Red  Cross  knio-hts  of  Norman  feudalism  ? 

While  all  these  events  were  passing,  we  can  very  well  believe 
that  the  clear  eye  of  Cromwell  saw  where  it  must  all  shortly 
terminate  ;  that,  in  fact,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  a  battle- 
field ;  and  he  was  among  the  most  prompt  and  decisi\e  of  all 
the  actors.  His  genius  was  too  bold,  too  clear-sighted,  to  /Y 
shine  in  the  mazes  of  debate  and  the  labyrinths  of  legal  techni- 
cality. The  battles  against  the  king,  with  lawyers  and  verbal 
hair-splitters,  were  best  fought  by  Pym  and  Hampden  ;  but 
outside,  in  the  affairs  of  the  camp,  and  in  that  legislation  that 
depends  on  a  swift,  clear  eye  and  a  strong,  rapid  arm — Crom- 
well was  the  man  !  He  distributed  arms  in  the  town  of  Cam- 
bridge, which  he  represented.  He  raised  a  troop  of  horse  out 
of  that  county  and  Huntingdonshire  ;  and  as  soon  as  he  re-  ' 
ceived  liis  commission  as  captain  he  began  his  career  of  con- 
quest. It  is  believed  that  here  he  struck  the  first  severe  blows 
at  the  Royal  party  ;  for  he  seized  the  magazine  of  Cambridge 
for  the  use  of  Parliament  ;  and  by  sto]»ping  a  quantity  of  plate 


98  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

on  its  way  from  the  University  to  the  king  at  York,  he  cut  off 
the  expected  supplies.  He  utterly  prevented  the  raising  of  a 
force  for  the  king  in  the  eastern  counties,  and  arrested  the 
High  Sheriff  of  Hertfordshire  at  the  very  moment  the  latter 
was  about  to  publish  the  proclamation  of  the  king,  declaring 
"  the  Parliament  commanders  all  traitors  !"  The  discipline  of 
his  troops,  their  bravery,  and  their  sobriety,  have  been  the  ad- 
miration of  men  ever  since. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  appellations  of  "  Cavalier"  and 
"  Roundhead  "  came  into  generd  use  to  denote  the  opposite 
parties.  The  former,  it  is  well  known,  designated  the  king's 
friends  ;  and  of  the  origin  of  the  latter,  Mrs.  Hutchinson  gives 
the  following  account  : 

"  When  Puritanism  grew  into  a  faction,  the  zealots  distin- 
guished themselves,  both  men  and  women,  by  several  affections 
of  habit,  looks,  and  words,  which,  had  it  been  a  real  declension 
of  vanity,  and  embracing  of  sobriety  in  all  those  things,  had 
been  most  commendable  in  them. 

"  Among  other  affected  habits,  few  of  the  Puritans,  what 
degree  soever  they  were  of,  wore  their  hair  long  enough  to 
cover  their  ears  ;  and  the  ministers  and  many  others  cut  it  close 
round  their  heads,  with  so  many  little  peaks,  as  was  something 
ridiculous  to  behold.  From  this  custom  of  wearing  their  hair, 
that  name  of  '  Roundhead  '  became  the  scornful  term  given  to 
the  whole  Parliament  party  ;  whose  army  indeed  marched  out 
so,  but  as  if  they  had  been  sent  out  only  till  their  hair  was 
grown.  Two  or  three  years  afterward,  however,"  she  contin- 
ues (the  custom,  it  may  be  presumed,  having  declined),  "  any 
stranger  that  had  seen  them  would  have  inquired  the  reason  of 
that  name." 

These  explanations  have  been  introduced  here  because  it  has 
been  usual  to  give  the  epithet  "  Roundhead  "  to  Cromwell's 
soldiers  on  account  of  the  shape  of  the  helmet.  Nothing  can 
be  more  erroneous.  The  more  usual  term  given  to  these  sol- 
diers immediately  beneath  Cromwell's  own  command,  was 
"Ironsides."     It  is  very  important  to  notice  the  training  of 


THE   TRAINING    OF   THE    IRONSIDES.  99 

these  men,  for  they  again  and  again  turned  the  tide  of  battle. 
They  were  not  ordinary  men  ;  they  were  mostly  freeholders, 
or  freeholders'  sons — men  who  thought  as  Cromwell  thought, 
and  over  whom  he  had  acquired  an  influence,  from  their  resid- 
ing in  his  neighborhood.  To  all  of  them  the  Civil  War  was 
no  light  game  ;  it  was  a  great  reality  ;  it  was  a  battle,  not  for 
carnal  so  much  as  spiritual  things,  and  they  went  forth  and 
fought  therefor. 

Hence  "  I  was,"  says  Cromwell,  "  a  person  that,  from  my 
first  employment,  was  suddenly  preferred  and  lifted  up  from 
lesser  trusts  to  greater,  from  my  first  being  a  captain  of  a  troop 
of  horse  ;  and  I  did  labor  (as  well  as  I  could)  to  discharge  my 
trust,  and  God  helped  me  as  it  pleased  Ilim,  and  I  did  truly 
and  plainly,  and  then  in  a  way  of  foolish  simplicity  (as  it  was 
judged  by  very  great  and  wise  men,  and  good  men,  too)  de- 
sire to  make  my  instruments  to  help  me  in  this  work  ;  and  I 
will  deal  plainly  with  you.  I  had  a  very  worthy  friend  then, 
and  he  was  a  very  noble  person,  and  I  know  his  memory  is 
very  grateful  to  all,  Mr.  John  Hampden.  At  my  first  going 
out  into  this  engagement,  I  saw  their  men  were  beaten  at  every 
hand  ;  I  did  indeed,  and  desired  him  that  he  would  make 
some  additions  to  my  Lord  Essex's  army  of  some  new  regi- 
ments, and  I  told  him  I  would  be  serviceable  to  him  in  bring- 
ing such  men  in  as  I  thought  had  a  spirit  that  would  do  some- 
thing in  the  work.  This  is  very  true  that  I  tell  you,  God  knows 
I  lie  not  ;  '  Your  troops,'  said  I,  *  are  most  of  them  old  decayed 
serving-men  and  tapsters,  and  such  kind  of  fellows  ;  and,' 
said  I,  '  their  troops  are  gentlemen's  sons,  younger  sons,  and 
persons  of  quality  ;  do  you  think  that  the  spirits  of  such  base 
and  mean  fellows  will  be  ever  able  to  encounter  gentlemen,  that 
have  honor  and  courage  and  resolution  in  them  ?  '  Truly,  I 
presented  him  in  this  manner  conscientiously,  and  truly  did  I 
tell  him,  '  You  must  get  men  of  spirit.  And  take  it  not  ill 
what  I  say  (I  know  you  will  not),  of  a  spirit  that  is  likely  to 
go  on  as  far  as  gentlemen  will  go,  or  else  I  am  sure  you  will  be 
beaten  still  ;  '  I  told  him  so,  I  did  truly.     He  was  a  wise  and 


100  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

worthy  person,  and  he  did  think  that  I  talked  a  good  notion, 
but  an  impracticable  one  ;  truly  I  told  him  I  could  do  some- 
what in  it  ;  I  did  so  ;  and  truly  I  must  need  say  that  to  you 
(impart  it  to  what  you  please),  I  raised  such  men  as  had  the  fear 
of  God  before  them,  and  made  some  conscience  of  what  they 
did,  and  from  that  day  forward,  I  must  say  to  you,  they  were 
never  beaten,  and  wherever  they  engaged  against  the  enemy, 
they  beat  continually."  * 

How  decisive  a  proof  is  this  of  Cromwell's  genius,  this 
enlisting  the  religious  enthusiasm  of  the  country  on  the  side  of 
the  Parliament  ;  thus  fronting  the  idea  of  lofty  birth  with 
Divine  ancestry — loyalty  to  the  king,  with  loyalty  to  God — im- 
mense possessions,  with  heirship  to  a  Divine  inheritance — and 
obedience  to  the  laws  and  prerogative  of  the  monarch,  with 
obedience  to  those  truths  unengraven  on  the  "  tables  of  stone," 
but  written  by  the  Divine  Spirit  on  "  the  fleshly  table  of  the 
heart,"  in  the  heroism  of  discipline,  and  faith,  and  prayer. 

"  As  for  Noll  Cromwell,"  said  the  editor  of  a  newspaper  of 
the  day  (the  then  celebrated  Marchmont  Needham),  with  to  the 
full  as  much  truth  as  intended  sarcasm,  "  he  is  gone  forth  in 
the  might  of  his  spirit,  with  all  his  train  of  disciples  ;  every  one 
of  whom  is  as  David,  a  man  of  war  and  a  prophet  ;  gifted  men 
all,  that  resolve  to  do  their  work  better  than  any  of  the  sons  of 
Levi."      "At  his  first  entrance  into  the  wars,"  observes  the 
Reliquice  Baxteriana,   "  being  but  captain   of   horse,    he  had 
especial  care  to  get  religious  men  into  his  troop  ;  these  men 
were    of   greater    understanding    than    common    soldiers,    and 
therefore  were  more  apprehensive  of  the  importance  and  conse- 
quences of  the  war.     By  this  means,  indeed,  he  sped  better 
than  he   expected.      Hereupon  he   got  a   commission  to  take 
some  care  of   the   associated   counties  ;  where  he  brought  his 
troop  into  a  double   regiment   of  fourteen  full  troops,  and  all 
these  as  full  of  religious  men  as  he  could  get  ;  these,  having 
more  than  ordinary  wit  and  resolution,  had  more  than  ordinary 


success," 


*  See  "  CromweU's  Letters  and  Speeches." 


THE  TRAINING   OF  THE   IRONSIDES.  101 

But  Crornwell  himself  has  given  to  us  the  history  of  these 
immortal  troops  ;  he  tells  us  how  he  saw  that  the  Parliamen- 
tarians must  have  been  beaten  unless  a  better  race  of  men  could 
be  raised — men  who  would  match  the  high  notions  of  chivalry 
and  loyalty,  and  overreach  them  with  a  nobler  and  worthier 
feeling.  Cromwell  plainly  saw  that,  even  in  battles,  it  is  not 
brute  force  that  masters,  but  invincible  honor  and  integrity, 
and  faith  in  the  purity  and  truth  of  the  cause. 

"  But,  not  contenting  himself  with  the  mere  possession  of 
religion  in  his  men,  '  he  used  them  daily  to  look  after,  feed, 
and  dress  their  horses  ;  taught  them  to  clean  and  keep  their 
arms  bright,  and  have  them  ready  for  service  ;  to  choose  the 
best  armor,  and  arm  themselves  to  the  best  advantage.'  Upon 
fitting  occasions,  and  in  order  to  inure  their  bodies  to  the  ser- 
vice of  the  field,  he  also  made  them  sleep  together  upon  the 
bare  ground  ;  and  one  day,  before  they  actually  met  the 
enemy,  tried  their  courage  by  a  stratagem.  Leading  them  into 
a  pretended  ambuscade,  he  caused  his  seeming  discovery  of 
danger  to  be  attended  with  all  the  '  noise,  pomp,  and  circum- 
stance '  of  a  surrounding  foe.  Terrified  at  which,  about 
twenty  of  the  troop  turned  their  backs  and  fled  ;  and  these  he 
directly  dismissed,  desiring  them,  however,  to  leave  their 
horses  for  such  as  would  fight  the  Lord's  battles  in  their  stead. 
Thus  trained,  when  the  contest  .really  ensued,  Cromwell's 
horse  '  excelled  all  their  fellow-soldiers  in  feats  of  war,  and 
obtained  more  victories  over  the  enemy.'  And  if  they  excelled 
them  in  courage,  so  did  they  also  in  civility,  order,  and  disci- 
pline. The  Court  journal,  indeed,  the  Mercurius  Aulicus, 
charged  them  with  many  cruelties  and  excesses,  of  which  every 
circumstance  proves  the  maliciousness  and  falsehood.  For, 
while  a  very  large  number  of  the  king's  party,  in  sober  truth, 
gave  themselves  up  to  every  species  of  debauchery  in  their  own 
persons,  and  to  all  manner  of  spoliation  of  the  peaceable  inhab- 
itants, of  whom  they  speedily  became  the  terror  and  detesta- 
tion, another  contemporary  print  justly  said  of  Cromwell's  sol- 
diers, '  No  man  swears,  but  he  pays  his  twelve-pence  ;  if  he  bq 


102  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

drunk,  he  is  set  in  the  stocks,  or  worse  ;  if  one  caHs  the  other 
Roundhead,  he  is  cashiered  ;  insomuch,  that  the  counties 
where  they  come  leap  for  joy  of  them,  and  come  in  and  join 
thcni.  How  happy  were  it  if  all  the  forces  were  thus  disci- 
plined.' " 

Xor  will  the  reader  fail  to  notice  the  practical  eye,  the  fiery 
sincerity  of  this  man. 

"  He  told  them,"  says  Forster,  ''  that  he  would  not  seek  to 
perplex  them  (since  other  officers,  he  had  heard,  instructed 
their  troops  in  the  nice  legal  fictions  of  their  civil  superiors  in 
Parliament)  with  such  and  such  phrases  as  fighting  for  king 
and  Parliament ;  it  was  for  the  Parliament  alone  they  were 
now  marchinof  into  military  service  :  for  himself,  he  declared 
that  if  he  met  King  Charles  in  the  body  of  the  enemy,  he 
would  as  soon  discharge  his  pistol  upon  him  as  upon  any 
private  man  ;  and  for  any  soldier  present,  therefore,  who  was 
troubled  with  a  conscience  that  might  not  let  him  do  the  like, 
he  advised  him  to  quit  the  service  he  was  engaged  in.  A 
terrible  shout  of  determined  zeal  announced  no  deserter  on  that 
score,  and  on  marched  Cromwell  and  his  Ironsides — then  the 
seed,  and  soon  after  the  flower,  of  that  astonishing  army, 
which  even  Lord  Clarendon  could  describe  as  '  one  to  which 
victory  was  entailed,  and  which,  humbly  speaking,  could 
hardly  fail  of  conquest  whithersoever  led — an  army  whose 
order  and  discipline,  whose  sobriety  and  manners,  whose  cour- 
age and  success,  made  it  famous  and  terrible  all  over  the 
world.'  " 

Can  our  readers  conceive  these  men  ?  The  writer  is  very 
desirous  that  they  should  do  so  ;  for  they  were  the  genius  of 
the  army.  Let  them  be  compared  with  Rupert  and  his 
soldiers.  Prince  Rupert,  called  also  "  Prince  Robber" — called 
also  "  The  Son  of  Plunder."  We  shall  dwell  at  length  upon 
this  chief  captain  of  Charles's  army  presently.  These  patro- 
nymics suggest  very  different  reflections  from  those  in  which  we. 
have  just  indulged  in  reference  to  the  Ironsides.  "\Mierever 
the   Cavaliers  went,   they   were  a  scourge  and  a   curse.     In 


THE   TRAINING   OF  THE   IIIONSIDES.  103 

Gloucester,  in  Wilts,  what  histories  have  we  of  them  and  their 
depredations.  They  were,  for  the  most  part  apparently,  an 
undisciplined  rabble,  without  bravery  or  determination,  if  we 
except  their  officers  ;  and  we  shall  see,  from  the  course  of  the 
history,  that  Rupert  was  a  madcap  prince,  and  his  imprudence 
the  worst  enemy  Charles  had,  next  to  his  own. 

There  is  nothing  more  remarkable,  in  the  course  of  this  civil 
war,  than  the  fact  that  men  who  had  just  come  from  the 
market  and  plough,  should  meet  the  Cavaliers  on  their  own 
ground  and  defeat  them.  The  Royalists  prided  themselves  on 
their  military  character  ;  war  was  their  trade  and  their  boast  ; 
swordsmen,  they  professed  to  be  skilled  in  all  the  discipline 
and  practice  of  the  field.  It  was  their  ancestral  character  ;  it 
was  the  crest  and  crown  of  their  feudalism,  and,  defeated  in 
war,  they  had  nothing  further  to  boast  of.  IIow  was  it  ?  The 
history  we  have  given  in  some  degree  explains  it  ;  but  the 
principal  reason,  after  all,  is  found  in  the  higher  faith.  Look 
at  the  watchwords  of  the  two  armies  as  they  rushed  on  to 
conflict  :  "  Truth  and  Peace  !"  "  God  is  with  us  !"  "  The 
Lord  of  Hosts  !"  such  mottoes  contrast  favorably  with  "  The 
King  and  Queen  Mary  !"  "  Hey  !  for  Cavaliers  !"  or  even 
that  of  "  The  Covenant  !"  These  men  charged  in  battle  as  if 
beneath  the  eye  of  God  ;  to  them  it  was  no  play,  but  business  ; 
they  knew  that  they  rushed  on,  many  of  them,  to  their  death, 
but  they  heeded  not,  for  their  spirit's  eye  caught  visions  of 
waiting  chariots  of  fire,  and  horses  of  fire,  hovering  round  the 
field  ;  and  they  advanced  to  the  conflict,  mingling  with  the 
roar  of  musketry  and  the  clash  of  steel  the  sound  of  psalms 
and  spiritual  songs. 

How  little  have  these  men  been  known.  The  novelist  has 
delighted  in  decorating  the  tombs  of  their  antagonists,  but  has 
cared  little  for  them.  Romance  has  spread  its  canvas,  and 
Poetry  her  colors,  to  celebrate  the  deeds  of  Rupert  and  his 
merry  men.  Has  it  been  ignorance  ?  or  that  disposition  of 
the  human  spirit  which  refuses  to  see  the  loft}'  piety  and 
determined  heroism  of  a  religious  soul  ?     Looked  at  from  that 


104  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

point  of  view  from  which  most  men  would  regard  them,  the 
Puritans,  and  the  soldiers  who  fought  the  battles  for  them, 
must  seem  to  be  fanatics  ;  for  they  believed  steadily  in  another 
world,  and  lived  and  fought  perpetually  as  beneath  its  influ- 
ence. Of  course  every  one  individually  was  not  such  an  one  ; 
but  we  judge  of  things  by  wholes — "  by  their  fruit  ye  shall 
know  them."  What  was  their  general  character?  It  is  not 
wonderful  that  we  detect  in  them  some  exaggeration — a  lofty 
spiritual  pride,  inflation  of  speech,  hardness,  insensibility  to 
human  passion.  The  school  in  which  they  were  trained  was 
a  very  severe  one  ;  their  rules  were  binding  by  a  most  impres- 
sive authority.  Let  the  man  who  Avould  judge  them,  look  at 
them  not  from  the  delineations  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  or  James, 
but  from  the  period  in  which  they  lived,  from  the  circum- 
stances by  which  their  characters  were  fashioned  and  made, 
and  to  the  men  to  whom  they  looked  as  leaders  ;  or  let  him 
take  the  chronicles  of  the  time,  and  he  will  be  at  no  loss  to 
spell  out  the  glory  of  their  name,  "  their  enemies  themselves 
being  judges."  We  have  already  said  romance  has  had  it  all 
its  own  way  in  depicting  the  Royalist  and  the  Cavalier  ;  to 
them  have  been  given  all  the  glow  of  the  novelist,  all  the 
charm  of  the  poet.  We  are  just  now  beginning  to  do  justice 
to  the  usages  and  manners  of  Puritan  households,  with  which 
sweetness  and  romance,  domestic  tenderness  and  grace  have 
been  supposed  to  be  incompatible  ;  yet  Puritan  womanhood  is 
one  of  the  fairest  of  types,  and  far  lovelier  to  the  true  artist's 
eye  than  any  of  the  luscious  lips  and  dainty  love-locks  which 
shed  their  meretricious  charms  over  the  canvases  of  Sir  Peter 
Lely.  We  like  to  imagine  those  old  country  houses,  the 
manors  and  mansions,  up  and  down  whose  staircases  of  polished 
oak,  Puritan  wives  and  maidens  were  handed  by  wealthy 
husbands  and  ambitious  lovers.  It  is  singular  to  realize  the 
regular  family  worship  there  ;  the  presence  of  superstitious 
helief  when  men  and  women  believed  themselves  to  be  nearer 
to  a  universe  of  invisible  and  mysterious  influences  than  they 
do  now  ;  and  stories  and  traditions  of  witchcraft  and  appari- 


THE  TRAINIlSrG   OF  THE   IROKSIDES.  lOo 

tions  haunted  the  houses.  The  houses  of  those  times  were 
certainly  romantic,  and  tenanted  by  a  noteworthy  race,  even 
though,  stepping  from  the  household  into  the  church,  our 
sentiments  are  somewhat  shocked  by  the  undecorated  service 
the  Puritans  loved  to  follow  ;  and  its  chancels  and  aisles 
presenting  the  staid  and  unornamented  appearance  of  those  we 
know  in  Geneva,  or  Zurich,  or  Berne,  only  that  no  choir  or 
organ  was  permitted  to  aid  the  song. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Cromwell's  contemporaries  :  john  hampden. 

Among  the  great  names,  shining  with  a  very  conspicuous 
lustre  during  this  period  of  civil  conflict,  perhaps  no  name  has 
commanded  since  a  more  universal  interest,  and  even  homage, 
than  that  of  Cromwell's  cousin,  John  Hampden.  He  was  the 
representative  of  an  ancient  and  higlily  honorable  county 
family  in  Buckinghamshire  ;  for  centuries  they  had  taken  their 
name  from  their  habitation,  Great  Hampden,  in  that  county. 
William  Hampden  married  the  aunt  of  the  Protector,  Crom- 
well ;  he  was  the  father  of  the  patriot.  The  history  of  this 
Elizabeth  Cromwell  was  a  singular  one  :  her  husband  died  in 
the  year  1597,  she  continued  a  widow  until  her  death,  sixty- 
seven  years  after,  and  she  was  buried  in  Great  Hampden 
Church,  1664-5,  having  lived  to  the  great  age  of  ninety.  It 
is  surely  affecting  to  think  of  the  singular  revolutions  through 
which  this  lady  passed  ;  her  years  extended  through  the  reigns 
of  si x^  sovereigns.  She  saw  the  great  line  of  the  Tudors  expire, 
with  her  royal  namesake  Elizabeth  ;  she  saw  the  British  sceptre 
united  with  that  of  the  Scottish  beneath  James  I. ;  she  saw  the 
trembling  sceptre  in  the  hand  of  Charles  I.,  and  beheld  it 
wrested  by  the  people  from  that  weak  and  impolitic  hand  ;  she 
saw  those  men  who  had  overawed  the  king,  and  conducted  him 
to  the  scaffold,  compelled  to  bow  before,  and  see  their  sover- 
eignty shivered  to  pieces  in  the  presence  of,  her  mighty 
nephew  as  he  ascended  the  Protector's  throne  ;  she  saw  his 
power  bequeathed  to  his  incapable  son,  her  great-nephew, 
Richard  ;  and  she  beheld  him  driven  into  private  life  by  the 
men  of  "  the  Rump"  of  the  Long  Parliament,  whom  her  illus- 
trious nephew  had  packed  about  their  business  ;  she  saw  those 
very  men  who  had  been  so  ignominiously  deposed,  those  self- 
restored  republicans,   revive  the  monarchy  by  the  restoration 


fits   CONTEMPORARIES  :   JOHN    HAMPDEN.  10? 

of  Charles  II.  to  the  throne,  so  inaugurating  the  most  disgrace- 
ful and  shameful  reign  which  desecrates  the  annals  of  our 
country's  history. 

What  an  affecting  succession  of  national  vicissitudes  !  She 
had  two  sons  :  Richard  was  the  youngest,  he  survived  his 
brother,  dying  in  1G59.  He  appears  to  have  been  of  the  same 
patriotic  faith  and  practice,  but  probably  a  comparatively 
weak  man  ;  he  was  one  of  the  Council  of  Richard  Cromwell. 
The  Hampden  was  John.  This  youth  received  the  natural 
training  of  an  English  gentleman  of  those  days  at  a  school  in 
Thame.  In  1609  he  entered  as  a  commoner  at  Magdalen 
College,  Oxford,  where  certainly  his  attainments  must  have 
obtained  for  him  some  reputation  ;  for  it  is  a  remarkable  fact 
that  he  was  chosen  by  Laud  apparently,  then  jnaster  of  St. 
John's,  to  write  the  gratulations  of  Oxford  upon  the 
marriage  of  the  Elector  Palatine  with  the  Princess  Elizabeth, 
the  marriage  which  gave  birth  to  Prince  Rupert,  who  led  the 
troops  at  Chalgrove  Field,  on  which  Hampden  was  slain  ! 
Hampden  married  in  1619,  and  his  marriage  seems  to  have 
been  singularly  happy  ;  but  he  did  not  retain  his  wife  long. 
He  first  represented  the  old  borough  of  Grampound,  in  the 
eightennth  year  of  the  reign  of  King  James  I.;  theo  he 
represented  Wendover,  in  the  two  Parliaments  in  the  first  and 
third  years  of  the  reign  of  Charles  I. ;  but  in  the  fifteenth  and 
sixteenth  years  of  the  same  reign  he  sat  for  the  county  of 
Buckinghamshire.  His  family  was  so  eminent — it  traced  itself 
in  unbroken  line  from  the  earliest  Saxon  times,  and  derived 
even  its  name  and  possessions  from  Edward  the  Confessor — 
that  it  is  not  singular  that  his  mother  was  very  desirous  that  he 
should  increase  the  family  dignity  by  attaining  to  that  to  which 
it  would  have  been  easy  to  attain,  the  peerage.  This  was 
before  the  great  troubles  set  in.  Hampden  seems  to  have  had 
no  ambition  of  this  kind,  and  saw  clearly  that  the  sphere  in 
which  he  could  most  effectively  serve  his  country  was  the 
House  of  Commons  ;  and,  in  his  rank  as  a  country  gentleman, 
he    was   perhaps   equal    in   the   several  particulars   of  wealth, 


108  OLIVER  CROMWELL. 

lineage,  and  intelligence  to  any  commoner  there.  To  the 
impressions  of  the  present  writer  the  character  of  Hampden 
seems  to  shine  out  with  singular  clearness,  but  many  writers 
have  affected  to  charge  him  with  the  indulgence  of  ambitious 
rather  than  patriotic  motives  in  the  great  struggle.  This  arises 
from  the  fact  of  the  deep  secretiveness  of  his  character,  a 
characteristic  in  which  he  was  perhaps  the  equal  of  his  mighty 
cousin,  and,  indeed,  had  he  been  preserved  to  the  close  of  the 
war,  the  course  of  events  after  might  have  been  different.  He 
had  far  more  practical  sagacity,  u  far  profounder  knowledge  of 
what  the  nation  needed,  than  either  Sir  Harry  Vane,  Algernon 
Sidney,  or  Bradshaw.  He  was  not  an  extreme  man  ;  he  was 
probably,  no  more  than  Cromwell,  a  dreaming,  theoretical 
republican.  He  desired  to  save  the  kingdom  from  the  doom 
of  intolerant  and  arbitrary  government  in  Church  and  State  ; 
and  as  an  upright  member  of  Parliament,  he  threw  himself  at 
once  into  the  struggle.  ,  He  may  be  almost  spoken  of  as 
certainly  one  of  the  very  first  who  stood  forward,  with  resolu- 
tion and  courage,  as  the  champion  of  liberty,  defying  the  sover- 
eign in  law,  and  denying  his  right  to  levy  ship-mone}'.  He 
stood  in  the  pathway  of  exorbitant  power  ;  he  refused  to  pay 
a  tax — trifling  to  him — because  it  was  levied  by  the  king  with- 
f>ut  the  consent  of  Parliament.  He  appealed  to  the  laws,  and 
he  brought  the  question  to  a  trial. 

The  Long  Parliament  has  been  called  the  fatal  Parliament. 
It  protected  itself  at  once  against  dissolution  by  resolving  that 
it  would  only  be  dissolved  by  its  own  act  ;  for  it  had  been 
abundantly  proved  that  "  with  Charles  no  Parliament  could  be 
safe,  much  less  useful  to  the  country,  that  did  not  begin  by 
taking  the  whole  power  of  government  into  its  own  hands."* 
To  this  Parliament  Hampden's  was  a  double  return,  for  Wen- 
dov^er  and  for  his  own  county  of  Buckinghamshire.  He  elect- 
ed to  sit  for  the  latter  ;  and  it  soon  became  very  clear  that  this 
Parliament   represented   the    indignation    of   a   whole   people 

*  Lord  Nugent's  "Life  of  John  Hampden." 


His   CONTEMtORARlES  :    JOHK   HAMPDEK.  100 

thoroughly  determined  to  redress  long  existing  and  grievous 
wrongs.  We  have  sufficiently  referred  to  this  in  preceding- 
pages.  Hampden  was  not  a  fierce  or  fiery  spirit  ;  indeed,  both 
Hampden  himself  and  the  men  by  whom  he  was  surrounded 
were  characters  not  very  easily  read.  Charles  was  as  unequal 
to  a  conflict  with  them  as  a  child. ,  They  had  to  deal  with  a 
man,  the  son  of  one  who  esteemed  himself  to  be  a  specially 
adroit  master  in  dissimulation,  and  who  had  certainly  left  to 
his  son,  as  a  legacy,  his  lessons  and  experiences  in  king-craft. 
We  have  seen  that  with  Charles  it  was  impossible  to  be  clear 
or  true  ;  dissimulation  was  the  weapon  by  which  he  had  sought 
to  circumvent  the  tactics  of  the  great  leaders.  They  were 
compelled  to  use  the  same  weapons,  and  they  vanquished 
him.  Hume,  speaking  of  Hampden  and  Sir  Harry  Vane,  and 
including,  of  course,  Cromwell,  says,  "  Their  discourse  was 
polluted  with  mysterious  jargon,  and  full  of  the  lowest  and 
most  vulgar  hypocrisy."  The  hypocrisy  which  Hume  charges 
on  Hampden  and  his  fellow-workers  amounts  to  no  more  than 
that  they  were  men  thoroughly  determined  not  to  be  circum- 
vented, and  to  knock  away  the  entire  scaffolding  which  went 
to  the  support  of  arbitrary  and  illegal  power  ;  and  they  illus- 
trated this  at  once,  in  resolving  on  the  indissolubility  of  their 
own  Parliament,  and  the  impeachment  which  led  to  the  death 
of  Strafford.  Inevitably  the  sword  was  unsheathed  in  the 
nation.  May,  in  his  "  History  of  the  Long  Parliament,"  says, 
"  The  fire  when  once  kindled  cast  forth,  through  every  corner  of 
the  land,  not  only  sparks  but  devouring  flames  ;  insomuch  that 
the  kingdom  of  England  was  divided  into  more  seats  of  war 
than  counties,  nor  had  she  more  fields  than  skirmishes,  nor 
cities  than  sieges  ;  and  almost  all  the  palaces  of  lords,  and  other 
great  houses,  were  turned  everywhere  into  garrisons  of  war. 
Throughout  England  sad  spectacles  were  seen  of  plundering  and 
firing  villages  ;  and  the  fields,  otherwise  waste  and  desolate, 
were  rich  only,  and  terribly  glorious,  in  camps  and  armies. " 

Now  comes  a  third  great  period  of  Hampden's  life  ;  for  his 
life  consists  of  three  stages.     First,  when  his  mind  was  matur- 


llO  OLiVEJl   CROMWELt. 

injr  its  wishes  and  intentions,  when  he  felt  the  dishonor  and 
the  distress  of  the  conntry  so  much  that  it  is  said  he  meditated 
with  Cromwell  embarking  for  America  ;  then  came  the  second 
period,  when  he  stood  forth  the  bold  and  earnest  counsellor, 
attempting  to  avert  by  his  wisdom  the  overt  acts  of  despotism 
on  the  one  side,  and  the  possibility  of  rebellion,  so  called,  on 
the  other  ;  then  came  the  third  period,  when,  under  the  wood}' 
brows  of  the  Chiltern  Hills,  he  sought  to  marshal  the  militia  of 
his  native  county.  With  prodigious  activity,  unceasingly  he 
labored,  and  souo-ht  to  form  the  union  of  the  six  associated 
midland  counties.  As  might  be  expected  from  his  character, 
he  was  mighty  in  organization,  and  he  deserves  the  principal 
honor,  perhaps,  of  having  brought  all  those  counties  to  act  as 
one  compacted  machine.  lie  gathered  all  his  green-coats 
together,  and  formed  them  into  a  company  which  told  with 
immense  effect  on  the  issues  of  the  war.  But  he  was  one  of 
the  first  who  fell.  It  was  on  Sunday  morning,  the  18th  of 
June,  1643,  being  in  the  second  year  of  the  war,  he  received  a 
mortal  wound  in  a  skirmish  on  Chalgrove  Field.  It  was  near 
to  the  scenery  of  his  school-boy  life,  Thame.  It  is  a  tradition 
that  he  was  seen  first  moving  in  the  direction  of  his  father-in- 
law's  house  at  Pyrton.  Thither  he  was  wont  to  go,  Avhen  a 
youth,  courting  his  first  wife,  whom  he  had  very  tenderly 
loved  ;  from  that  house  he  had  married  her.  It  was  thought 
that  thither  he  would,  had  it  been  possible,  have  gone  to  die. 
But  Rupert's  cavalry  were  covering  the  plain  between  ;  so  he 
rode  back  across  the  grounds  of  Hazeley,  on  his  way  to 
Thame.  He  paused  at  the  brook  which  divides  the  parishes  ; 
he  was  afraid  to  dismount,  as  he  felt  the  impossibility  of 
remountino;  if  he  alighted.  He  summoned  a  momentary 
strength,  cleared  the  leap  ;  he  was  over,  reaching  Thame  in 
great  pain,  and  almost  fainting.  He  found  shelter  in  the 
house  of  one  Ezekiel  Brown,  and  six  days  after,  having 
suffered  cruelly,  almost  without  intermission,  he  died  ;  but 
during  those  days  he  wrote,  or  dictated,  letters  of  advice  to 
the  Parliament,    whose  affairs  had  not,    as  yet,    reached  that 


HIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :   JOHN   HAMPDEN.  Ill 

state  of  prosperity  whicli  they  presently  attained.  Then,  like 
the  religious  man  he  was,  he  disposed  himself  solemnly  for 
death  ;  he  received  the  Lord's  Supper  shortly  before  he  died  ; 
lie  avowed  his  dislike,  indeed,  to  the  government  of  the 
Church  of  England — that  of  course — but  his  faith  in  her 
great  doctrines  ;  he  died  murmuring  in  prayer,  "  Lord 
Jesus  !"  he  exclaimed  in  the  last  agony,  "  receive  my  soul  !    O 

Lord,  save  my  country  !    O  Lord,  be  merciful  to , "  but  the 

prayer  was  unfinislied,  in  that  second  the  noble  spirit  passed 
away.  Of  course  he  was  buried  in  his  own  parish  church  of 
Great  Hampden  ;  there  his  dust  lies  in  the  chancel.  His 
soldiers  followed  their  great  leader  to  the  grave  bareheaded, 
with  reversed  arms  and  muffled  drums  ;  as  they  marched  they 
sung  the  nineteenth  Psalm,  "  that  lofty  and  melancholy 
Psalm,"  says  Lord  Macaulay,  "  in  which  the  fragility  of 
human  life  is  contrasted  with  the  immutablity  of  Ilim  to  whom 
a  thousand  years  are  but  as  yesterday  when  it  is  passed,  or  as 
a  watch  in  the  night."  The  great  storm  of  war  which  rolled 
over  the  country  had  removed  Hampden  from  his  old  house, 
and  all  the  scenes  of  his  early  felicity.  He  never  resided  in 
Buckinghamshire  after  his  second  marriage  ;  his  Parliamentary 
duties  compelled  a  residence  in  London,  and  he  chose  what 
was  then  the  charming  suburban  retreat  of  Gray's  Inn  Lane. 
But  the  mansion,  the  ancestral  home  of  his  early  days,  still 
stands.  From  its  seclusion,  it  is  little  known  ;  but  it  stands 
upon  a  spot  of  singular  beauty,  from  whence  it  commands  a 
view  of  several  counties.  It  reposes  among  gi'een  glades,  and 
is  inclosed  within  the  shadowy  stillness  of  old  woods  of  box, 
juniper,  and  beech  lining  the  avenues  which  lead  to  the 
old  house  of  manifold  architectures,  blending  the  ancient 
Norman  with  the  style  of  the  Tudor,  and  mingling  with  these 
the  innovations  of  later  periods.  It  has  been  thought  that  the 
purity  of  Hampden's  character  might  be  seen  in  the  fact  that 
a  spirit  so  quiet  and  so  unambitious  could  forsake  the  stillness 
of  so  holy  and  beautiful  a  retreat,  to  mingle  his  voice  amid 
the  crafts  and  collisions  of  Parliament,   or  the  wild  shock  of 


112  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

warfare.  The  story  of  Hampden's  life  insensibly  draws  us  to 
Samuel  Rogers'  charming  picture  of  the  patriot  in  "  Human 
Life,"   and  by  Hampden's  tomb   we   may   well   recur   to   the 

lines  : 

"  Then  was  the  drama  ended.     Not  till  then, 

So  fiiU  of  chance  and  change  the  lives  of  men, 

Could  we  pronounce  him  happy.     Then  secure 

From  pain,  from  grief,  and  all  that  we  endure. 

He  slejjt  in  peace — saj',  rather,  soared  to  Heaven, 

XJpboi'ne  from  earth  by  Him  to  whom  'tis  given 

In  His  right  hand  to  hold  the  golden  key 

That  oj)es  the  portals  of  Eternity. 

When  by  a  good  man's  grave  I  muse  alone, 

Methinks  an  angel  sits  iii^on  the  stone, 

And,  with  a  voice  inspiring  joy  not  fear. 

Says,  pointing  upward,  '  Know,  he  is  not  here  ! '  "* 

*  It  almost  shocks  the  sensibilities,  even  of  not  very  sensitive  pet- 
sons,  to  know  that  from  mere  motives  of  curiositj'  the  bodj'  of  the 
great  patriot  was,  manj'  years  since,  exhumed.  Hampden's  body 
.was  dragged  from  its  dread  abode,  aiDparently  for  no  other  reason 
than  to  settle  the  cause  of  his  death,  which  bj-  many  persons  had 
been  assigned  to  the  bm-sting  of  his  own  pistol  ;  the  pistol  had  been 
a  i^resent  to  him  from  Sir  Eobert  Pye,  his  son-in-law,  and  tradition 
had  said  that  when  Sir  Kobert  visited  his  father-in-law,  in  his  last 
illness,  Hampden  said  to  him,  "  Ah  !  Eobin,  your  unhappj'  present 
has  been  my  ruin  !"  It  is  certain  that  he  met  his  death  on  the  field 
as  a  brave  man  might,  in  the  performance  of  his  duty,  and  it  certain- 
ly seems  an  idle  and  very  insignificant  reason,  for  the  settlement  of 
such  a  question,  to  have  vexed  and  disturbed  the  repose  of  the  sa- 
cred and  venerable  dead.  However,  it  was  done,  and  a  copious  ac- 
count of  the  disentombment  was  inserted  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine 
for  August,  1828.  It  was  Lord  Nugent  who  condticted  the  examina- 
tion, and  he  removed  and  unrolled  the  shroud  from  his  venerable 
ancestor.  The  coffin  was  lifted  from  the  vault  and  placed  on  tressels 
in  the  centre  of  the  church.  The  examination  does  not  appear  to 
have  resulted  in  any  very  distinctly  satisfactory  elucidations  ;  but 
those  who  are  interested  in  such  matters  may  find  a  ghastly  descrip- 
tion of  the  appearance  of  the  patriot  after  his  long  sepulture,  if  they 
turn  back  to  the  volume  to  which  we  have  already  given  a  reference. 
The  author  of  the  present  work  may  be  permitted  to  express  his 
amazement  that  hands  professing  to  be  moved  by  reverence  could 
engage  in  such  an  unseemly  and  self-imposed  task. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CROMWELL  :    THE    BATTLE    OF    MAKSTON    MOOR. 

It  was  on  the  field  of  Marston  tliat  the  military  genius  of 
Cromwell  first  shone  conspicuous]}'.  Marston  Moor,  seven 
miles  from  York.  How  came  that  battle  to  be  fought  at  all  ? 
The  old  city  of  York  is  a  venerable  city  ;  crowned  with  its 
tiara  of  proud  towers,  she  stands,  like  an  old  queen,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ouse.  And  she  has  witnessed  memorable  thinofs 
in  the  course  of  her  history — for  she  has  a  defined  history 
approaching  two  thousand  years — but  not  one  more  memorable 
than  that  great  fight  in  which,  for  the  first  time,  the  genius  of 
Cromwell  rose  triumphant  and  complete  upon  the  field.  York, 
the  old  city,  was  in  possession  of  the  Royalists  ;  and  so  weak 
were  they,  that  it  seemed  the  Roundheads,  wlio  lay  encamped 
before  the  city,  must  soon  find  an  entrance  there.  But  just 
then  the  fiery  Rupert  came  plunging  across  the  Lancashire  hills, 
after  his  cruel  massacre  at  Bolton.  He  had  with  him  20,000 
of  the  flower  of  the  Royalist  and  Cavalier  army  ;  and  the 
I'uritan  forces  drew  out  from  York  to  Marston  Moor.  Had 
Rupert  contented  himself  with  relieving  and  succoring  York, 
the  whole  tide  of  conflict  might  have  been  different  ;  but  he 
did  not  know  the  strength  of  his  foes.  Charles,  indeed,  had 
written  to  him,  "  If  York  be  lost,  I  shall  esteem  my  crown  to 
be  little  less  [than  lost]."  There,  outside  of  the  city,  lay  the 
Royalist  army — lay  the  protecting  host  of  Rupert  ;  and  there, 
yonder,  along  the  moor,  the  armies  of  the  Parliament.  It  was 
a  calm  summer  evening,  on  the  second  of  July,  1644.  We 
can  scarcely  even  now  think  that  Rupert,  in  all  his  thoughtless- 
ness, could  have  wished  to  hazard  a  battle  when  the  advan- 
tages, so  decidedly  his  own,  could  only  have  been  jeoparded 
and  risked  by  conflict  ;  and  yet,  let  us  recollect  that  the  letter 
of  Charles  to  him  was  carried  by  him  on  his  heart,  to  the  day 


114  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

of  bis  death,  as  liis  warrant  tliat  well-fought,  fatal  field  ;  and 
as  we  have  said,  he  did  not  know  the  strength  of  that  army  of 
yeomen  and  volunteers  ;  above  all,  be  did  not  know  Cromwell. 
The  evening  of  the  day  closed  in  gloom,  the  heavens  were  cov- 
ered with  clouds,  thick,  black,  murky  masses  swept  over  the 
sky.  Hymns  of  triumph  rose  from  the  ranks  of  the  Round- 
heads and  the  Parliament,  while  Prince  Rupert  would  have  a 
sermon  preached  before  him  and  the  army  ;  and  his  chaplain 
took  a  text,  which  seemed  to  challenge  the  issue  of  the  mor- 
row, from  Joshua  :  "  The  Lord  God  of  gods,  the  Lord  God  of 
gods.  He  knoweth,  and  Israel  he  shall  know  ;  if  it  be  rebellion, 
or  in  transgression  against  the  Lord,  save  us  not  this  day." 
Still,  dark  and  gloomy,  and  more  gloomy,  fell  the  evening  ; 
thunder  muttered  along  the  heavens,  and  the  forked  &nnw 
glanced  on  the  mighty  mass  of  iron-clad  men.  Between  the 
two  armies  lay  a  drain.  On  the  opposite  bank  to  the  Royalist 
forces,  in  the  centre,  stood  Leveii  and  Fairfax,  the  commanders 
of  the  Parliament  ;  on  the  left  yonder,  Cromwell  and  his  Iron- 
sides. Rupert  had,  with  wild,  furious,  characteiistic  energy, 
fallen  upon  the  centre,  and  bis  life-guards  had  scattered  and 
routed  them,  so  that  amid  the  storm  of  shot,  the  maddening 
shouts,  the  thundering  hoof,  pursuing  and  pursued,  they  swept 
across  yonder  field,  cutting  down  remorselessl}^  all,  scattering 
the  whole  host  like  leaves  before  the  storm-wind.  Goring,  the 
other  Royalist  general,  was  not  idle  ;  his  desperadoes  charged 
on,  and  with  wild,  tumultuous  rout  they  hewed  down  the  fugi- 
tives by  scores.  Two  thirds  of  the  field  were  gained  for 
Rupert  and  for  Charles.  Lord  Fairfax  was  defeated.  He  fled 
through  the  field,  through  the  hosts  of  the  Cavaliers,  who  sup- 
posed him  to  be  some  Royalist  general  ;  he  posted  on  to 
Cawood  Castle,  arrived  there,  and  in  the  almost  or  entirely  de- 
serted house  he  unbooted  and  unsaddled  himself,  and  went  like 
a  wise  old  soldier  to  bed.  But  amid  all  that  rout,  the  carnage, 
and  flying  confusion,  one  man  held  back  his  troops.  Crom- 
well, there  to  the  left,  when  he  saw  how  the  whole  Royalist 
fgrce  attacked  the  centre,  restrained  the  fiery  impatience  of  hjs 


THE    BATTLE    OF   MARSTON    MOOR.  115 

.Ironsides  ;  lie  drew  them  off  still  farther  to  the  left  ;  his  eye 
blazed  all  on  fire,  till  the  moment  he  littered  his  short,  sharp 
passionate  word  to  the  troops,  "  Charge,  in  the  name  of  the 
Most  High  !"  Beneath  the  clouds,  beneath  the  storm,  be- 
neath the  night  heavens  flying  along,  he  scattered  the  whole 
mass.  We  know  it  was  wondrous  to  see  him  in  those  moods 
of  highly-wrought  enthusiasm  ;  and  his  watchword  always 
struck  alono;  the  ranks.  "  Truth  and  Peace  !"  he  thundered 
along  the  lines  ;  "  Truth  and  Peace  !"  in  answer  to  the  Royal- 
ist cries  of  "  God  and  the  King  !"  "  Upon  them — upon 
them  !"  That  hitherto  almost  unknown  man,  and  liis  im- 
mortal hosts  of  Puritans,  poured  upon  the  Cavaliers.  The  air 
was  alive  with  artillery,  Cromwell  seized  the  very  guns  of  the 
Royalists,  and  turned  them  upon  themselves.  Thus,  when  the 
Royalists  returned  from  the  scattering  the  one  wing  of  their 
foes,  they  found  the  ground  occupied  by  victors.  The  fight 
was  fought  again,  but  fought  in  vain  ;  in  vain  was  Rupert's 
rallying  cry,  "  For  God  and  for  the  King  !"  Through  the 
black  and  stormy  night  was  seen  the  gleaming  steel  of  other 
hostile  lines.  The  Cavaliers  were  scattered  far  and  wide  over 
the  plain — over  the  country  ;  while  amid  the  fire,  thousands  of 
the  dead  lying  there,  and  the  shattered  carriages,  Rupert  made 
the  last  effort  of  flying  from  the  field  to  York  ;  across  the 
bean-field,  over  the  heath,  the  agonized  young  fiery-heart 
made  his  way.  And  there,  amid  the  gathering  silence,  and 
amid  the  groans  of  the  dying,  rises  the  magnificent  military 
genius  of  Cromwell  ! 

Marston  Moor  was  the  first  most  decided  collision  of  the  hos- 
tile armies.  We  have  given  in  a  few  touches  a  concise  and 
succinct  account  of  this  great  and  momentous  conflict  ;  but, 
even  in  so  brief  a  life  of  Cromwell  as  the  present,  it  ought  not 
to  be  so  hastily  dismissed.  A  graphic  pencil  might  employ 
itself  in  a  description  of  the  fine  old  city,  besieged  for  three 
months,  where  provisions  were  growing  scarce,  and  in  whose 
beautiful  minster  that  day — it  was  a  Sabbath-day — affecting 
accents  had  given  tender  pathos  to  the  liturgies  imploring  aid 


116  '  OLIVER    CROilWELL. 

from  Heaven.  It  would  be  no  difficult  task  to  realize  and  de- 
scribe the  streets  of  the  ancient  and  magnificent  city  as  they 
were  on  that  day,  and  if  Rupert  had  been  wise,  it  seems  as  if 
the  city  might  have  been  relieved  and  Cromwell's  great  oppor- 
tunity lost  ;  but  the  two  vast  ironclad  masses  lay  out  beyond 
there  — nearly  fifty  thousand  men,  all  natives  of  the  same  soil — 
stretching  away  almost  to  Tadcaster — skirting  Bramham  Moor, 
upon  which,  ages  before  Mother  Shipton  had  prophesied  that  a 
great  battle  would  be  fought — a  prophecy  which,  in  this  in- 
stance, received  very  creditable  approximation  to  fulfilment. 
It  was,  as  we  have  said,  on  the  2d  of  Jul}',  1644.  The  day 
wore  on  while  successive  movements  and  counter  movements 
took  place.  Scarcely  a  shot  had  been  fired.  When  both 
armies  were  completely  drawn  up,  it  was  after  five  in  the  even- 
ing, and  nearly  another  hour  and  a  half  passed  with  Kttle  more 
than  a  few  cannon  shots.  The  lazy  and  nonchalant  Newcastle 
considered  all  was  over  for  that  day,  and  had  retired  to  his 
carriage,  to  prepare  himself  by  rest  for  whatever  might  betide 
on  the  morrow.  Even  Rupert  and  Cromwell  are  believed  to 
have  expected  that  their  armies  would  pass  the  night  on  the 
field.  It  was  a  bright  summer  evening,  closing  apparently  in 
storm  ;  there  was  light  enough  still  for  the  work  of  destruction 
to  proceed,  and  that  mighty  host — 46,000  men,  children  of 
one  race,  subjects  of  one  king — to  mingle  in  bloody  strife,  and 
lay  thousands  at  rest,  "  to  sleep  the  sleep  that  knows  no  wak- 
ing," on  that  fatal  night  in  July,  on  Long  Marston  Moor.  It 
has  been  surmised,  with  considerable  probability,  that  a  stray 
cannon  shot,  which  proved  fatal  to  young  Walton,  Oliver 
Cromwell's  nephew,  by  rousing  in  him  every  slumbering  feel- 
ing of  wrath  and  indignation,  mainly  contributed  to  bring  on 
the  general  engagement.  Certain  it  is  that  he  was  the  first  to 
arrange  his  men  for  decisive  attack.  We  suppose  it  was  during 
the  period  of  inaction,  in  the  evening  that  Prince  Rupert  ex- 
amined a  stray  prisoner  whom  his  party  had  taken,  as  to  who 
were  the  leaders  of  the  opposing  army  ;  the  man  answered, 
"  General  Leven,  Lord    Fairfax,   and   Sir   Thomas   Fairfax." 


THE   BATTLE   OF  MaRSTON   MOOR.  Ill" 

"  Is  Cromwell  there  ?"  exclaimed  the  Prince,  interrupting 
him  ;  and  being  answered  that  he  was,  "  Will  they  fight?" 
said  he  ;  "if  they  will,  they  shall  have  fighting  enough." 
Then  the  prisoner  was  released,  and  going  back  to  his  own 
army  told  the  generals  what  had  passed,  and  Cromwell  that  the 
Prince  had  asked  for  him  in  particular,  and  had  said,  "  They 
should  have  fighting  enough."  "  And,"  exclaimed  Cromwell, 
*'  if  it  please  God,  so  they  shall  !" 

It  was,  then,  within  a  quarter  to  seven  on  that  evening  of 
July,  when  the  vast  army,  that  spread  along  the  wide  area  of 
Marston  Moor,  began  to  be  stirred  by  rapid  movements  to  the 
front.  Along  a  considerable  part  of  the  ground  that  lay  imme- 
diately between  the  advanced  posts  of  the  Parliamentary  forces, 
there  ran  a  broad  and  deep  ditch,  which  served  to  protect  either 
party  from  sudden  surprise.  Toward  this,  it  has  been  said  by 
some  that  a  body  of  Cromwell's  cavalry  was  seen  to  move  rap- 
idly from  the  rear,  followed  by  a  part  of  the  infantry.  Prince 
Rupert  met  this  promptly  by  bringing  up  a  body  of  musket- 
eers, who  opened  on  them  a  murderous  fire  as  they  formed  in 
front  of  the  ditch  which  protected  Rupert's  musketeers  from 
the  cavalry,  while  a  range  of  batteries  advantageously  planted 
on  a  height  to  the  rear  kept  up  an  incessant  cannonading  on 
the  whole  line. 

It  was  the  first  meeting  of  Cromwell  and  Rupert.  And  on 
,  Cromwell,  as  we  have  seen,  descends  the  glory  of  the  victory. 
His  eye  detected  the  movements  in  the  Royalist  army.  lie 
and  his  Ironsides  (first  named  Ironsides  on  this  famous  field) 
broke  the  cavalry  of  General  Goring.  The  Scots,  indeed,  had 
been  defeated  by  Rupert  early  in  the  battle.  He  poured  upon 
them  a  torrent  of  irresistible  fire.  But  while  he  was  confident 
that  the  field  was  won,  the  Ironsides  again  poured  over  Rupert's 
own  cavalry,  and  swept  them  from  the  field. 

The  victory  was  complete,  the  Royalist  army  was  entirely 
broken  and  dispersed  ;  fifteen  hundred  of  their  number 
remained  prisoners.  The  whole  of  their  arms  and  artillery, 
their  tents,  baggage  and  military  chest  remained  the  spoils  of 


118  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

the  victors.  Prince  Rupert's  own  standard,  and  more  than  a 
hundred  others,  had  fallen  into  their  hands  ;  and  York,  which 
Rupert  had  entered  only  three  days  before  in  defiance  of  their 
arms,  now  lay  at  their  raercy.  A  strange  and  fearful  scene 
spread  out  beneath  the  sky  on  that  summer,  now  dark  with  mid- 
night storm,  on  Long  Marston  Moor.  Five  thousand  men  lay 
dead  6r  dying  there  ;  born  of  the  same  lineage,  and  subjects  of 
one  king,  who  had  yet  fallen  by  one  another's  hands.  It  was 
the  bloodiest  battle  of  the  whole  war,  and  irretrievably  ruined 
the  king's  hopes  in  the  north. 

ItDug  after  midnight,  Rupert  and  Newcastle  re-entered  York. 
'They  exchanged  messages  without  meeting,  Rupert  intimating 
his  intention  of  departing  southward  on  the  following  morning 
with  as  many  of  the  horse  and  foot  as  he  had  kept  together  ; 
and  Newcastle  returning  word  that  he  intended  immediately  to 
go  to  the  sea-side,  and  embark  for  the  Continent — a  desertion 
rendered  justifiable  when  we  remember  that  his  advice  had 
been  contemptuously  slighted,  and  his  command  superseded  by 
the  rash  nephew  of  Charles,  acting  under  the  king's  orders. 
Each  kept  his  word,  and  iu  a  fortnight  thereafter  York  was  in 
possession  of  their  opponents. 

Many  representatives  of  noble  houses  lay  stretched  stark  and 
cold  on  the  dreadful  field.  The  eminent  Roman  Catholic 
family  of  Townley,  of  Burnley,  in  Lancashire,  have  a  tradition 
of  the  day.  Mary,  daughter  of  Sir  Francis  Trapper,  had  mar- 
ried Charles  Townley  ;  he  was  one  of  those  killed  in  this  bat- 
tle. During  the  engagement,  his  wife  was  with  her  father  at 
Knaresborough  ;  there  she  heard  of  her  husband's  fate,  and 
came  upon  the  field  the  next  morning  to  search  for  his  body, 
while  the  attendants  of  the  camp  were  stripping  and  burying 
the  dead.  Here  she  was  accosted  by  a  general  officer,  to  whom 
she  told  her  melancholy  story  ;  he  heard  her  with  great  tender- 
ness, but  he  earnestly  implored  her  to  leave  the  scene  not  only 
so  distressing  to  witness,  but  where  she  might  also  herself  be 
insulted.  She  complied,  and  he  called  for  a  trooper,  mounted 
her  on  horseback  in  the  trooper's  company,  and  sent  her  back 


THE   BATTLE   OF   MARSTOK   MOOR.  119 

'in  safety  to  Knaresborougli.  Inquiring  of  the  trooper,  on  tlie 
wa}'^,  the  name  of  the  officer  to  whom  she  had  been  indebted, 
she  learned  that  it  was  Cromwell  !  This  story  is  preserved  in 
the  archives  of  the  Townley  family.  She  survived,  a  widow, 
until  1690  ;  died  at  Townley,  and  was  buried  at  Burnley  at  the 
age  of  ninety-one. 

And  here  is  a  letter  from  Cromwell,  full  of  tenderness.  The 
strong  man  could  weep  with  those  who  wept.  And  you  notice, 
although  he  had  turned  on  that  field  the  fortunes  of  England, 
he  makes  no  mention  of  himself,  nor  any  mention  of  a  severe 
wound  he  had  received  in  the  neck.  D'Aubigne  says  it  bears 
indubitable  marks  of  a  soldier's  bluntness,  but  also  of  the  sym- 
pathy of  a  child  of  God.  In  Oliver  these  two  elements  were 
never  far  apart.  It  was  addressed  to  his  brother-in-law.  Col- 
onel Valentine  Walton,  the  husband  of  his  younger  sister  Mar- 
garet, and  contained  the  account  of  the  victory,  and  of  his  own 
son's  being  among  the  slain,  the  same  whose  fate,  it  is  thought, 
by  rousing  Oliver  to  the  charging  point,  brought  on  the  gen- 
eral engagement, 

"  5th  July,  1644. 

"  Dear  Sir, — It's  our  duty  to  sympathize  in  all  mercies, 
and  to  praise  the  Lord  together  in  all  chastisements  or  trials,  so 
that  we  may  sorrow  together. 

' '  Truly  England  and  the  Church  of  God  hath  had  a  great 
favor  from  the  Lord,  in  this  great  victory  given  unto  us,  such 
as  the  like  never  was  since  this  war  began.  It  had  all  the  evi- 
dence of  an  absolute  victory,  obtained,  by  the  Lord's  blessing, 
upon  the  godless  party  principally.  We  never  charged  but  we 
routed  the  enemy.  The  left  wing,  which  I  commanded,  being 
our  own  horse,  saving  a  few  Scots  in  our  rear,  beat  all  the 
prince's  horse.  God  made  them  as  stubble  to  our  swords. 
We  charged  their  regiments  of  foot  with  our  horse,  and  routed 
all  we  charged.  The  particulars  I  cannot  relate  now  ;  but  I 
believe,  of  twenty  thousand,  the  prince  hath  not  four  thousand 
left.     Give  glory,  all  the  glory,  to  God. 

"  Sir,  God  hath  taken  away  your  eldest  son  by  a  cannon 


120  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

sliot.     It  brake  his  leg.     We  were  necessitated  to  have  it  cut 
oflf,  whereof  he  died. 

"  Sir,  you  know  my  own  trials  this  way  ;  but  the  Lord  sup- 
ported me  in  this — that  the  Lord  took  him*  into  the  happiness 
we  all  pant  for,  and  live  for.  There  is  your  precious  child  full 
of  glory,  never  to  know  sin  or  sorrow  any  more.  He  was  a 
gallant  young  man,  exceedingly  gracious.  God  give  you  His 
comfort.  Before  his  death  he  was  so  full  of  comfort,  that  to 
Frank  Russel  and  myself  he  could  not  express  it — '  it  was  so 
great  above  his  pain.'  This  he  said  to  us.  Indeed  it  was  ad- 
mirable. A  little  after  he  said,  one  thing  lay  upon  his  spirit. 
I  asked  him  what  that  was  ?  He  told  me  it  was,  that  God  had 
not  suffered  him  to  be  any  more  the  executioner  of  His  ene- 
mies. At  his  fall,  his  horse  being  killed  with  the  bullet,  and, 
as  I  am  informed,  three  horses  more,  I  am  told  he  bid  them 
open  to  the  right  and  left,  that  he  might  see  the  rogues  run. 
Truly  he  was  exceedingly  beloved  in  the  army,  of  all  that  knew 
him.  But  few  knew  him,  for  he  was  a  precious  young  man, 
fit  for  God.  You  have  cause  to  bless  the  Lord.  He  is  a  glori- 
ous saint  in  heaven,  wherein  you  ought  exceedingly  to  rejoice. 
Let  this  drink  up  your  sorrow,  seeing  these  are  not  feigned 
words  to  comfort  you,  but  the  thing  is  so  real  and  undoubted 
a  truth.  You  may  do  all  things  by  the  strength  of  Christ. 
Seek  that,  and  you  shall  easily  bear  your  trial.  Let  this  public 
mercy  to  the  Church  of  God  make  you  to  forget  your  private 
sorrow.     The  Lord  be  your  strength  ;  so  prays 

"  Your  truly  faithful  and  loving  brother, 

"  Oliver  Cromwell. 

**  My  love  to  your  daughter,  and  my  cousin  Percival,  sister 
Desbrow,  and  all  friends  with  you." 

Thus  ended  the  battle  of  Marston  Moor.  It  was  the  most 
decisive  blow  Charles  had  yet  received  ;  but  far  from  being  so 
decisive  now  as  it  miffht  have  been.  We  have  again  to  notice 
the  indecision  of  the  generals.   Earls  Manchester  and  Essex. 

*  His  own  son,  Oliver,  who  had  been  killed  not  long  before. 


THE   BATTLE   OF   MAESTON   MOOR.  121 

Nearly  half  the  kingdom  was  in  the  possession  of  the  Parlia- 
mentary party.  The  reasons  for  this  vacillation  it  may  be  now 
well  to  notice.  The  nobility — it  began  ere  this  time  to  appear — 
notwithstanding  they  had  very  generally  come  into  the  earlier 
measnres  of  opposition  to  Charles's  government,  both  from 
their  old  hereditary  jealousy  of  the  Crown,  and  unusual  oppres- 
sions and  nefflects  ever  since  the  accession  of  Henrv  II.,  were 
every  day  becoming  more  convinced  that  they  had  unwittingly 
contributed  to  place  the  people,  under  the  guidance  of  their 
Commons'  House,  upon  such  a  footing  of  equality  with  them- 
selves as  had  already  engendered  rivalry,  and  threatened  mas- 
tership. They  had  now,  therefore,  every  disposition  possible 
to  coalesce  with  the  Scots  in  entering  into  a  peace  with  the 
king  that  should  at  once  secure  him  in  the  possession  of  his 
"  just  power  and  greatness,"  and  confirm  in  themselves  those 
privileges  of  rank  and  birth  whose  best  support,  next  to  that  of 
legitimate  popular  freedom,  they  saw  to  be  legitimate  mo- 
narchical prerogative.  But  they  went  much  farther  ;  for  the 
Earls  of  Essex  and  Manchester,  who  had  been  intrusted  with 
the  command  of  the  Parliament's  forces,  and  who  might  be 
said  to  be  the  representatives  of  the  great  body  of  the  nobles 
with  the  army,  had  seemed,  since  the  battle  of  Marston  Moor, 
to  neutralize  the  efforts  of  their  soldiers,  as  though  they  were 
unwilling  to  make  the  popular  cause  too  eminent  ;  and,  though 
not  actually  to  allow  themselves  to  be  beaten  by  the  king,  to 
make  little  advantage  of  his  failures,  and  occasionally  even  to 
permit  him  to  avail  himself  of  a  drawn  battle,  or  a  positive  de- 
feat, as  though  it  had  been  to  him  a  victory.  Owing  to  these 
causes,  it  had  become  apparent  that  the  Parliament,  instead  of 
approaching  the  state  of  things  they  so  much  desired,  and  by 
which  they  had  once  hoped  effectually  to  give  law  to  their 
sovereign,  were  even  yet  losing  ground  in  the  contest.  Essex 
endured  a  complete  and  total  failure.  He  allowed  himself  to 
be  pushed  on  to  the  west,  until,  disbanding  his  troops,  he  took 
boat  from  Plymouth,  and  escaped  to  London,  where,  however, 
he  was  well  received  bv  the  Parliament.     Meantime  Cromwell 


122  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

and  Manchester  were  together  in  Berkshire,  and  Manchester 
had  certainly  met  with  precisely  the  same  success  but  for 
Cromwell.  As  it  was,  the  latter  could  only  partially  secure  the 
success  of  the  Parliament,  because  compelled  to  act  under  the 
command  of  the  Earl.  Newbury  had  already  been  the  scene  of 
one  contest  ;  its  neighborhood  was  destined  to  be  the  scene  of 
another.  It  might  have  been  decisive.  Cromwell  saw  this, 
and  ho  implored  Manchester  to  allow  him  to  make  an  effort  to 
prostrate  the  king  ;  but  the  earl  refused.  It  was  a  golden  op- 
portunity, this,  for  retrieving  all  the  losses  of  Essex,  and  finish- 
ing the  campaign  gloriously — so  gloriously  began  by  the  battle 
of  Marston  Moor.  The  event  of  this  skirmish,  too,  convinces 
us  that  had  Charles  more  frequently  commanded  in  person,  he 
would  more  frequently  have  been  victor. 

It  was  a  moonlight  night  following  the  fight  of  Donnington. 
The  ground  all  round  was  strewed  with  dead  bodies  ;  and  the 
day  closed,  leaving  it  in  possession  of  the  Royalists.  They 
occupied  a  central  position,  well  fortified  by  nature  and  by  art  : 

"  It  was  a  moonlight  night  which  followed,  and  anxious 
thoughts  occupied  both  camps  of  the  desperate  strife  that  must 
decide  the  morrow.  Suddenly  the  penetrating  and  sleepless 
eye  of  Cromwell  saw  the  Royalists  move.  It  was  so.  Charles, 
having  utterly  lost  his  left  position,  had  despaired  of  the  poor 
chance  that  remained  to  him  in  the  face  of  such  a  foe.  His 
army  were  now  busy  in  that  moonlight,  conveying  into  the 
castle  by  a  circuitous  route  their  guns  and  heavy  stores  ;  while 
beliind,  battalion  after  battalion  was  noiselessly  quitting  its 
ground,  and  marching  off  as  silently  in  the  direction  of  Oxford. 
Over  and  over  again  Cromwell  entreated  Manchester  to  suffer 
him  to  make  a  forward  movement  with  his  cavalry.  At  that 
critical  moment  he  would  have  prostrated  Charles.  Manchester 
refused.  A  show  was  made  next  morning  of  pursuit,  but  of 
course  without  effect.  Charles,  with  all  his  material  and  pris- 
oners, had  effected  a  clear  escape.  Nor  was  this  all.  While 
the  Castle  of  Donnington  remained  unmolested  amid  the  dread- 
ful dissensions  which  from  this  event  raged  through  the  Parlia- 


THE    BATTLE    OF    MAESTON    MOOE.  123 

mentarian  camp,  the  king,  having  been  reinforced  by  Rupert 
and  an  excellent  troop  of  horse,  returned  twelve  days  after, 
assumed  the  offensive  in  the  face  of  his  now  inactive  con- 
querors, carried  off  all  his  cannon  and  heavy  stores  from  out  of 
the  castle,  coolly  and  uninterruptedly  fell  back  again,  and 
marched  unmolested  into  Oxford." 

And  so  thus  unsuccessfully  ended  the  work  which  was  begun 
so  successfully  at  Marston  Moor.  Well  might  Cromwell  there- 
upon say,  "  There  will  never  be  a  good  time  in  England  till  we 
have  done  with  lords  !"  Manchester  and  Cromwell  came  to  a 
quarrel  after  this  second  Newbury  fight.  Their  opposition  was 
very  marked. 

"  They  in  fact  come  to  a  quarrel  here,"  says  Carlyle,  "  these 
two,  and  much  else  that  was  represented  by  them  came  to  a 
quarrel  :  Presbytery  and  Independenc}^,  to  wit.  Manchester 
was  reported  to  have  said,  if  they  lost  this  army  pursuing  the 
king,  they  had  no  other.  The  king  might  hang  them.  To 
Cromwell  and  the  thorough-going  party  it  had  become  very 
clear  that  high  Essexes  and  Manchesters,  of  limited  notions  and 
large  estates  and  anxieties — who,  besides  their  fear  of  being 
beaten  utterly,  and  forfeited  and  '  hanged, '  were  afraid  of 
beating  the  king  too  well — would  never  end  this  cause  in  a 
good  way." 

Again  we  have  arrived  at  a  pausing  point,  where  the  reader 
may  look  round  him  and  notice  the  scenery,  and  reconnoitre 
the  state  of  parties,  and  the  three  great  personalities  meeting 
him  here,  Presbyterianism,  Independency,  and  Cromwell. 
We  have  seen  that  the  Scots  marched  into  England  to  the  aid 
of  the  Parliament.  We  shall  now  see  that  they  desired,  in  the 
subversion  of  Episcopacy,  the  elevation  of  Presbyterianism. 
Meantime  there  had  arisen  a  large  party,  representing  at  that 
time,  indeed,  the  mind  of  England  —  Independents,  who 
thought  with  Milton  that  presbi/ter  was  only  priest  writ  large, 
who  continued  to  plead  for  the  right  of  private  judgment  and 
universal  toleration  in  religion,  setting  the  will  of  individual 
churches  as  the  rule  and  ordinance  in  church  matters.      Of  this 


124  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

large  party,  Cromwell  was  tlie  representative  ;  of  the  other,  the 
Earls  we  have  mentioned,  as  the  generals  of  the  Parliamentary 
array,  may  be  regarded  as  the  representatives  in  the  camp. 
There  were,  therefore,  two  deterring  motives  preventing  them 
from  aiming  at  entire  success.  As  members  of  the  House  of 
Peers,  they  feared  lest  they  should  raise  up  too  formidable  a 
rival  in  the  Commons  ;  and  they  saw,  or  seemed  to  see,  in  the 
Presbyterian  party  the  means  of  holding  in  check  tbe  power 
they  dreaded.  We  may  not,  however,  so  much  charge  them 
with  real  treachery,  as  an  utter  want  of  enthusiasm. 

But  whatever  was  the  cause  of  failure,  hitherto  the  Parlia- 
mentary cause  had  comparatively  failed — failed  in  the  midst  of 
successes — failed  evidently  from  the  simple  want  of  decision  and 
rapid  energy.  It  became  necessary  to  change  the  tactics  of 
war.  Cromwell  no  doubt  felt  that  he  could  bring  the  matter 
to  an  issue  and  decision  at  once  ;  and  that  he  would  do  so  was 
feared,  apparently,  by  the  leaders  of  the  army  and  by  the  Pres- 
byterians. He  was  now  powerful  enough  to  excite  jealousy. 
It  was  probably  felt  that  he  was  the  strongest  man  in  the  king- 
dom, and  the  wisest  in  these  councils  and  debates  ;  for  this 
reason,  many  efforts  were  made  to  set  him  on  one  side,  to  this 
tbe  Scots  Commissioners  especially  aimed.  It  was  known  that 
Cromwell  was  a  thorough  Englishman — that  he  was  likely  to 
increase  in  power  and  influence.  A  conspiracy,  therefore,  was 
set  on  foot  to  crush  him,  of  which  Whitelock  gives  to  us  the 
particulars.  The  conspiracy  aimed  at  the  reputation,  perhaps 
at  the  very  life,  of  Cromwell.  The  record  given  by  Whitelock 
is  very  curious,  more  especially  as  he  has  preserved  so  entirely 
the  colloquial  form.  One  evening,  very  late,  he  informs  us,  he 
was  sent  for  by  the  Lord-General  Essex,  ' '  and  there  was  no 
excuse  to  be  admitted,  nor  did  we  know  before  the  occasion  of 
our  being  sent  for.  When  we  came  to  Essex  House,  we  were 
brought  to  the  Lord-General,  and  with  him  were  the  Scots 
Commissioners,  Mr.  Holies,  Sir  Philip  Stapylton,  Sir  John 
Meyrick,  and  divers  others  of  his  special  friends.  After  com- 
pliments, and  that  all  were  set  down  in  council,  the  Lord -Gen- 


THE    BATTLE    OF    MAKSTOK   MOOR.  125 

eral  having  requested  the  Lord  Chancellor  of  Scotland,  ;is  the 
better  orator,  to  explain  the  object  of  the  meeting,  the  latter 
spake  to  this  effect  : 

"  Mr.  Maynard  and  Mr.  Whitelock  .  .  .  you  ken  vary 
weel  that  Lieutenant-General  Cromwell  is  no  friend  of  ours  ; 
and,  since  the  advance  of  our  army  into  England,  he  hath  used 
all  underhand  and  cunning  means  to  take  from  our  honor  and 
merit  of  this  kingdom  ;  an  evil  requital  for  all  our  hazards  and 
services  :  but  so  it  is  ;  and  we  are,  nevertheless,  fully  satisfied 
of  the  affections  and  gratitude  of  the  gude  people  of  this  nation 
in  the  general. 

"It  is  thought  requisite  for  us,  and  for  the  carrying  on  of 
the  cause  of  the  twa  kingdoms,  that  this  obstacle,  or  remora, 
may  he  removed  out  of  the  way  ;  whom,  we  foresee,  will  other- 
wise be  no  small  impediment  to  us,  and  the  gude  design  we 
have  undertaken. 

*'  He  not  only  is  no  friend  to  us,  and  to  the  government  of 
our  church,  but  he  is  also  no  well-wisher  to  His  Excellency, 
whom  you  all  have  cause  to  love  and  honor  ;  and,  if  he  be  per- 
mitted to  go  on  his  ways,  it  may  be,  I  fear,  endanger  the  whole 
business  :  therefore,  we  are  to  advise  of  some  course  to  be 
taken  for  the  prevention  of  that  mischief. 

"  You  ken  vary  weel  the  accord  'twixt  the  twa  kingdoms, 
and  the  union  by  the  solemn  league  and  covenant  ;  and  it  may 
be  an  incendiary  between  the  twa  nations,  how  is  he  to  be  pro- 
ceeded against  ?  Now,  the  matter  wherein  we  desire  your 
opinions,  is,  what  you  tak  the  meaning  of  this  word  '  incendi- 
ary '  to  be  ;  and  whether  Lieutenant-General  Cromwell  be  not 
sic  an  incendiary,  as  is  meant  thereby  ;  and  whilke  way  wud 
be  best  to  take  to  proceed  against  him,  if  he  be  proved  to  be 
sic  an  incendiary,  and  that  will  clepe  his  wings  from  soaring  to 
the  prejudice  of  our  cause. 

"  Now  you  may  ken  that,  by  our  law  in  Scotland,  we  'clepe 
him  an  incendiary  wha  kindleth  coals  of  contention,  and  raiseth 
differences,  in  the  state,  to  the  public  damage  ;  and  he  is  tan- 
quam  publicus  hostis  patrice :  whether  your  law  be  the  same 


126  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

or  not,  3^011  ken  best,  who  are  mickle  learned  therein,  and 
therefore,  with  the  favor  of  His  Excellency,  we  desire  your 
judgment  thereon." 

But  the  lawyers  were  wary  ;  moreover  they  perhaps  knew 
the  madness  of  this  attempt,  and  saw  into  its  design,  and  their 
answer  brought  the  plot  to  a  standstill. 

Whitelock  replied,  "  that  if  such  proofs  could  '  be  made 
out, '  then  he  was  '  to  be  proceeded  against  for  it  by  Parlia- 
ment, upon  his  being  there  accused  of  such  things. '  He  added 
that  he  took  '' Lieutenant- General  Cromwell  to  be  a  gentleman 
of  quick  and  subtle  jxirts,  and  one  ivho  had,  especially  of  late, 
(jained  no  small  interest  in  the  House  of  Commons  :  nor  was  he 
wanting  in  friends  in  the  Hotise  of  Peers  ;  nor  of  abilities  in 
himself,  to  manage  his  own  part  or  defence  to  the  best  advan- 
tage.' In  conclusion,  he  could  not  '  advise  that,  at  that  time, 
he  should  be  accused  for  an  incendiary  ;  but  rather  that  direc- 
tion might  be  given  to  collect  such  passages  relating  to  him,  by 
which  their  lordships  might  judge  whether  they  would  amount 
to  prove  him  an  incendiary  or  not.'  Maynard,  afterward 
speaking,  observed  that  *  Lieutenant- General  Cromwell  was  a 
person  of  great  favor  and  interest  with  the  House  of  Commons, 
and  with  som,e  of  the  House  of  Peers  likewise  ;  '  and  that,  there- 
fore, '  there  must  be  proofs,  and  the  more  clear  and  evident, 
against  him,  to  prevail  with  the  Parliament  to  adjudge  him  to 
be  an  incendiary  ;  '  which  he  beli  3ved  would  '  be  more  difficult 
than  perhaps  some  might  imagine  to  fasten  upon  him.'  " 

While  this  plot  was  in  movement,  Cromwell  certainly  ap- 
pears to  have  been  himself  laboring  to  curtail  the  power  of  the 
General  Earls.  He  impeached  Manchester  with  backwardness 
in  entrance  upon  engagements.  He  appears  in  his  speech,  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  to  have  run  over  a  series  of  charges, 
certainly  affecting  the  fitness  of  his  commander  for  his  post. 
Manchester  in  turn  accused  Cromwell  of  saying  that  it ' '  would 
never  be  well  with  England  until  the  Earl  was  plain  Mr.  Mon- 
tague ;  that  the  Scots  had  crossed  the  Tweed  only  for  the  pur- 
pose of  establishing  Presbyterianism  ;  and  that,  in  that  cause, 


THE    BATTLE    OF    MAKSTOiq"    MOOR.  137 

he  would  as  soon  draw  bis  sword  against  them  as  against  the 
king  ;  and  sundry  other  things." 

The  charges  against  botli,  on  both  sides,  dropped  ;  but  the 
House  of  Commons  resolved  itself  into  a  committee  for  the 
purpose  of  considering  how  best  to  bring  the  war  to  an  issue. 

On  this  occasion  the  speech  of  Cromwell  was  masterly  in  the 
extreme  ;  he  concluded  by  calling  for  a  remodelling  of  the 
whole  army,  a  stricter  discipline,  and  a  measure  aiming  at  the 
dismissal  of  the  Earls  of  p]ssex,  Manchester,  aad  Denbigh. 
This  was  the  famous  Self-denying  Ordinance,  by  which  all 
members  of  the  Senate  were  incapacitated  for  serving  in  the 
army.  The  Lords  protested  against  this,  because  it  would 
efEcctually  cut  off  all  their  body  from  being  perpetual  peers  ; 
but  this  was  its  very  object.  Sir  Thomas  Fairfax,  not  a  mem- 
ber, was  for  that  reason  elected  to  supreme  command  ;  and 
thus,  it  appeared,  that  some  obstacles  were  removed.  Could 
it  be  imagined  that  the  power  and  place  of  Cromwell  were  also 
suspended  ?  The  Parliament,  at  any  rate  in  his  instance,  sus- 
pended the  Self-denying  Ordinance  ;  was  not  this  a  proof  that 
it  was  perceived  that  he  was  the  most  capable  man  in  the  king- 
dom ? 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Cromwell's  contemporaries  :  prince  rupert. 

Prince  Rupert  has  often  been  called  tlie  evil  genius  of 
Cliarles,  but  it  would  perhaps  be  quite  as  true,  if  not  more  so, 
to  designate  Charles  as  the  evil  genius  of  Rupert.  There  is, 
no  doubt,  a  not  unnatural  prejudice  against  the  prince,  as  a 
foreigner,  commanding  the  royal  army  against  the  arms  of  the 
Parliament  and  the  people  ;  and  his  name  has  something  of  a 
mythical  character  attaching  to  it  ;  he  springs  suddenly  upon 
us  and  upon  our  nation  as  something  even  like  a  wild  hunter. 
Our  readers  ought  to  make  themselves  distinctly  acquainted 
with  this  singular  person,  who  seems  to  hold  much  the  same 
place — however  inferior  in  capacity  and  command — in  the  royal 
armies  which  Cromwell  held  in  that  of  the  Parliament.  Who 
was  this  Prince  Rupert  ?  Our  readers  will  perhaps  remember 
the  magnificent  festivities  which  gladdened  the  Court  and  the 
nation  when,  in  1613,  the  marriage  of  Elizabeth  of  England, 
the  daughter  of  James  I.,  was  solemnized,  in  her  sixteenth 
year,  with  the  Prince  Palatine,  the  Elector  of  Bohemia.  If 
we  may  judge  from  contemporaneous  chronicles,  the  beauty  of 
this  only  surviving  sister  of  Charles  was  singular  ;  she  was 
called  the  "  Pearl  of  Britain,"  and  the  "  Queen  of  Hearts  ;" 
while  the  charming  symmetry  of  her  form  and  features  are  said 
to  have  been  enhanced  by  the  exquisite  play  of  soft  expression 
over  her  face.  It  has  been  said  that  history  borrows  the  colors 
of  romance  when  she  paints  this  fair  young  princess  on  the 
morning  of  her  marriage,  as  sbe  passed  along  to  the  chapel 
over  a  gallery  raised  for  the  purpose,  glowing  in  all  the  lights 
of  loveliness  and  majesty,  arrayed  m  white,  her  rich  dark  hair 
falling  over  her  shoulders,  and  on  her  head  a  crown  of  pure 
gold  ;  one  hand  locked  in  that  of  her  brother  Charles,  and  the 
other  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  old  Earl  of  Northampton  ;  her 
train  of  noble  bridesmaids  followed  on  her  steps.      It  is  said 


HIS    CONTEMPOKARIES  :    PRIKCE    KUPERT.  129 

that  England  had  never  seen  the  equal  to  the  sumptuous  splen- 
dor of  this  marriage  ;  the  bravery  and  riches  were  incompara- 
ble, the  gold,  the  silver,  the  pearls,  the  diamonds  and  every 
variety  of  jewels.  The  king's,  queen's,  and  prince's  jewels 
were  valued  alone  at  £900,000  sterling.  Then  came  magnifi- 
cent masques,  and  the  mock  fight  upon  the  Thames  ;  and  then 
some  gay  masque  representing  the  marriage  of  the  Thames  and 
the  Rhine  ;  and  at  night  fireworks  blazing  over  London.  For 
the  marriage  was  very  popular,  and  was  supposed  to  be  a  good 
omen  for  the  cause  of  Protestantism.  And  when  the  fair 
princess  reached  the  country  of  her  adoption,  the  same  romantic 
and  festive  lights  for  some  time  shone  round  her  ;  the  grand 
old  ruins  of  Heidelberg  still  retain  the  memories  of  her  resi- 
dence there,  and  romantic  fiction  has  sought  to  charm  the  old 
walls  and  rooms  of  the  famous  ruin  with  her  presence. 

She  was  the  mother  of  Prince  Rupert.  He  was  born  at 
Prague,  in  1619  ;  his  father  had  claimed  to  be,  and  had  got 
liiraself  and  his  fair  young  queen  crowned,  king  and  queen  of 
Bohemia,  so  that  the  prince  was  born  with  all  the  assumptions 
of  royalty  around  him.  But  his  genealogist  says,  "  He  began 
to  be  illustrious  many  years  before  his  birth,  and  we  must  look 
back  into  history,  above  two  thousand  years,  to  discover  the 
first  rays  of  his  glory.  We  may  consider,"  continues  the 
writer,  "  him  very  great,  being  descended  from  the  two  most 
illustrious  and  ancient  houses  of  Europe,  that  of  England  and 
Palatine  of  the  Rhine."  And  then  the  writer  goes  on  to  trace 
up  his  ancestry  to  Attila,  Charlemagne,  and  so  down  through 
a  succession  of  Ruperts,  Louis,  Fredericks.  The  facts  after  the 
birth  of  Rupert  are  an  affecting  satire  upon  all  this.  All  the 
festive  chambers  became  but  the  rooms  in  a  house  of  mourn- 
ing ;  the  poor  Queen  Elizabeth  shortly  became  a  widow,  an 
exile  from  the  land  of  her  birth,  an  outcast  from  the  country 
of  her  adoption  and  ambition  ;  all  the  dark  destinies  of  the 
Stuarts  were  realized  in  her  story.  When  Rupert  reached 
manhood,  she  appears  to  have  been  a  pensioner  on  Holland  ; 
her  brother  Charles  had  attained   to   the   English   crown,  Ins 


130  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

troubles  had  not  yet  commenced,  so  as  to  prevent  him  from 
giving  some  help  to  his  sister  ;  but  he  appears  to  have  given 
none,  and  only  invited  her  to  England  with  so  much  indiffer- 
ence that  the  cold  hospitality  was  refused. 

Rupert  was  in  the  army  of  the  Netherlands,  attaining  some 
little  experience  in  war  ;  but  on  the  whole  passing  in  those 
young  days  a  restless  and  purposeless  life.  Then  he  became  an 
Austrian  prisoner  in  the  grim  old  castle  of  Lintz,  and  a  long 
time  passed  on  in  obscurity  and  silence,  illuminated,  however, 
by  a  pleasing,  apparently  innocent  and  romantic  love  story. 
The  Count  Kuffstein,  the  governor  of  Lintz,  had  a  daughter,  an 
only  daughter  ;  and  the  old  governor,  his  stern  imagination 
somewhat  touched  by  the  misfortunes  of  his  royal  prisoner, 
charged  his  daughter  to  care  for  him,  watch  over  him,  and 
minister  some  comfort  to  him  —  to  do  which,  perhaps,  the 
young  lady  was  not  indisposed.  So,  however,  went  on  some 
love  passages  in  the  dark  rooms  of  the  old  castle  hanging  over 
the  rolling  Danube — passages  which  the  prince  seems  not  to 
have  forgotten  through  the  future  years  and  vicissitudes  of  his 
strange  career.  At  length  the  time  of  his  release  came,  appar- 
ently through  the  pathetic  interest  of  his  mother.  Then  the 
storm  rose  in  England,  and  Rupert  accepted  in  good  time  an 
invitation  from  his  Uncle  Charles. 

He  reached  England  at  the  time  when  the  queen,  Henrietta 
Maria,  was  meditating  her  flight,  and  he  attended  her  to  Hol- 
land, and  thence,  returning  again,  he  joined  the  poor  little 
Court  of  his  uncle  in  the  old  castle  of  Nottingham  ;  and  from 
this  moment  his  name  figures  prominently  in  the  story  of  the 
times.  It  is  only  just  to  him  to  remember  that,  after  all  the 
experiences  through  which  he  had  passed,  he  was  not  yet 
twenty-three  years  of  age,  We  can  very  well  believe  the  ac- 
counts which  represent  him  as  an  accession  of  no  ordinary  kind 
to  the  company  of  friends  and  counsellors  gathered  round  the 
king.  There  was  little  cheerfulness  in  that  assembly;  naturally 
enough,  the  spirits  of  the  king  were  dark  and  drooping.  We 
need  not  suppose  that  the  young  prince  brought  much  wisdom 


HIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :    PRINCE    RUPERT.  131 

to  the  councils,  but  his  daring  impetuosity,  the  promptitude 
and  vigorous  decision  in  the  character  of  the  young  man,  must 
have  been  like  a  gale  of  new  life  ;  he  did  not  come  of  a  wise 
and  thoughtful  race,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  there  does  seem 
to  have  been  a  dash  of  magnanimity  in  his  character  which  sel- 
dom shone,  and  only  in  occasional  gleams,  in  the  more  distin- 
guished representatives  of  the  Stuart  race.  Recklessness  was 
his  vice  ;  but  the  portraits  of  him  at  this  period  present  quite 
an  ideal  cavalier,  and  perhaps  he  has  always  been  regarded  as 
the  representative  cavalier.  His  moral  and  intellectual  natui'e 
would  seem  to  have  been  derived  from  his  motlier  :  the  hand- 
some physique,  the  high-bred  Norman  nose,  the  supercilious 
upper  lip,  the  handsome  stately  form,  seem  to  bear  testimony 
to  his  father's  race.  Assuredly,  a  figure  more  unlike  to  that 
grotesque  piece  of  humanity,  his  grandfather,  James  I.,  it  is 
impossible  to  conceive  ;  the  long  love-locks  of  the  cavalier  fell 
over  his  shoulders,  and  he  is  described  as  altogether  such  a  per- 
son as  Vandyke  loved  to  transfer  to  his  canvases,  and  ladies 
would  regard  with  attractive  interest.  Of  the  great  questions, 
the  profound  matters,  which  led  to  the  solemn  discussions  of 
his  uncle  with  the  people  of  England,  we  may  believe  him  to 
be  utterly  ignorant  ;  it  is  not  saying  too  much  to  assert  that 
they  were  quite  beyond  the  comprehension  of  a  nature  like 
that  of  Prince  Rupert.  It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  the  mighty 
enjoyment  of  his  life  was  a  hunt  ;  to  him  might  have  been  ap- 
plied the  words  of  the  l^anish  ballad, 

"With  my  dogs  so  good 
I  hunt  l,b.e  wild  deer  in  the  wood." 

And  every  conflict  in  which  he  engaged  on  English  ground 
seems  merely  to  have  been  regarded  by  him  as  a  kind  of  wild 
hunt.  Off  lie  started  in  the  impetuosity  of  the  fight,  and,  as 
we  shall  see  again  and  again,  having  left  the  field  as  he  sup- 
posed in  the  possession  of  his  array,  and  started  off  in  mad 
pursuit,  he  returned  to  discover  that  he  had  missed  his  oppor- 
tunity, and  the  field  wa^  lost.  Such  was  Prince  Rupert,  such 
his  relationship  to  Charles,  and  the  circumstances  which 
brought  him  to  the  Royalist  army. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    BATTLE    OF    NASEBT. 

Now  we  shall  push  on  more  rapidly.  The  Self-denying 
Ordinance  is  regarded  as  a  masterpiece  of  duplicity  originating 
from  the  mind  of  Cromwell.  The  superseding  of  the  most 
illustrious  officers  in  the  People's  army  was  hailed  by  the  Roy- 
alists as  a  sure  prelude  to  their  thorough  routing.  The  king 
was  in  high  hopes.  It  was  about  this  time  he  wrote  to  the 
queen,  "  I  may,  without  being  too  much  sanguine,  affirm,  that 
since  the  rebellion  my  affairs  were  never  in  so  fair  and  hopeful 
a  way."  Cromwell,  certainly,  could  not  suppose  that  he  long 
could  be  dispensed  with  ;  but  neither  could  he  at  all  have 
known  how  soon  his  services  would  be  required,  and  how  im- 
portant those  services  were  to  be.  The  supreme  power,  we 
have  seen,  was  vested  in  the  hands  of  Fairfax.  It  is  quite 
noticeable  that  his  commission  was  worded  differently  from  the 
way  in  which  all  previous  commissions  had  been  worded.  It 
was  made  in  the  name  of  the  Parliament  alone,  not  in  that  of 
the  kinor  and  Parliament. 

"  Toward  the  end  of  April,"  says  M.  Guizot,  "  Fairfax  an- 
nounced that  in  a  few  days  he  should  open  the  campaign. 
Cromwell  went  to  Windsor,  to  kiss,  as  he  said,  the  general's 
hand,  and  take  him  his  resignation.  On  seeing  him  enter  the 
room,  Fairfax  said,  '  I  have  just  received  from  the  Committee 
of  the  Two  Kingdoms  an  order  which  has  reference  to  you. 
It  directs  you  to  proceed  directly  with  some  horse  to  the  road 
between  Oxford  and  Worcester,  to  intercept  commimications 
between  Prince  Rupert  and  the  king. '  The  same  evening 
Cromwell  departed  on  his  mission,  and  in  five  days,  before  any 
other  corps  of  the  new  array  had  put  itself  in  motion,  he  had 
beaten  the  Royalists  in  three  encounters  (April  24th,  at  Islip 
Bridge  ;   26th,    at   Witney  ;    27111,    at   Bampton  Bush),  taken 


THE   BATTLE   01*   ^fASEBY.  133 

Bletcliington  (April  24th),  and  sent  to  the  House  a  full  report 
of  his  success.  .'  Who  will  bring  me  this  Cromwell,  dead  or 
alive  !  '  cried  the  king  ;  while  in  London  all  were  rejoicing 
that  he  had  not  yet  given  in  his  resignation. 

"  A  week  had  scarcely  passed,  and  the  Parliament  had 
already  made  up  its  mind  that  he  should  not  resign.  The 
campaign  had  commenced  (April  30th).  The  king  quitted 
Oxford  (May  Vth),  had  rejoined  "Prince  Rupert,  and  was  pro- 
ceeding toward  the  north,  either  to  raise  the  siege  of  Chester 
or  give  battle  to  the  Scottish  army,  and  regain  on  that  side  its 
former  advantages.  If  he  succeeded,  he  would  be  in  a  posi- 
tion to  threaten,  as  he  pleased,  the  east  or  the  south  ;  and  Fair- 
fax, then  on  his  way  to  the  west  to  deliver  the  important  town 
of  Taunton,  closely  invested  by  the  Prince  of  Wales,  could 
not  oppose  his  progress.  Fairfax  was  recalled  (May  5th)  ;  but, 
meantime,  Cromwell  alone  was  in  a  condition  to  watch  the 
king's  movements.  Notwithstanding  the  Ordinance,  he  re- 
ceived orders  to  continue  his   service  forty   days  (May  10th)." 

The  country  was  alarmed  at  the  idea  of  Cromwell  resigning 
at  such  a  juncture  as  this.  The  Common  Council  petitioned 
Parliament,  demanding  a  free  discretion  to  be  given  to  the 
General,  and  the  permanent  restoration  of  Cromwell  to  his  for- 
mer command.  The  latter  was  confirmed  by  an  application, 
signed  by  General  Fairfax  and  sixteen  of  his  chief  officers,  for 
Cromwell  to  join  him  as  an  officer  indispensably  .needed  to 
command  the  cavalry. 

On  the  12th  of  June,  1645,  a  reconnoitring  party  of  the 
Parliamentary  cavalry  unexpectedly  came  upon  a  detachment  of 
the  Royal  army,  leisurely  returning  from  the  north,  on  the 
news  of  the  threatened  blockade  of  Oxford.  The  king  was 
flushed  with  the  highest  hopes.  The  success  of  Montrose  in 
the  north  promised  to  free  him  from  all  fear  in  that  direction, 
and  he  anticipated  a  body  of  troops  to  join  him  from  the  west. 
The  meeting  of  outposts  of  the  two  armies  was  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Northampton  ;  but  the  king  fell  back  immediately 
toward  Leicester,  to   allow  his  whole  forces  to  draw  together. 


134  OLIVER   CROMWELL, 

On  tlie  following  day  Cromwell  joined  Fairfax  amid  shouts  from 
the  whole  army,  and,  a  few  hours  afterward,  the  king  learned 
that  the  squadrons  under  his  command  were  already  harassing 
the  rear.  Prince  Rupert  advised  an  immediate  attack  on  the 
enemy.  A  council  of  war  was  held,  and  many  of  the  officers 
urged  delay  until  the  expected  reinforcements  should  join 
tlicm  ;  but  Rupert's  advice  prevailed.  On  the  field  of  Naseby 
the  two  armies  met  once  nwre  in  deadly  fight  early  on  the 
morning  of  the  14th  of  June. 

On  the  field  of  Marston  the  genius  of  Cromwell  shone  forth, 
as  we  have  said,  for  the  first  time,  amazing  by  its  majesty  alike 
the  army  of  the  Parliament  and  the  king.  On  the  field  of 
Naseby  the  baton  of  Cromwell  struck  down  the  sceptre  from 
the  hand  of  Charles,  never  in  his  day  to  be  lifted  by  royal 
hands  again.  Naseby,  we  know,  is  a  little  village  town  in 
Leicestershire,  near  Market  Harborough,  and  remains,  we  un- 
derstand, to  this  day  very  much  what  it  was  on  the  day  of  the 
battle  in  June,  1645.  A  wide,  wavy,  open  country  it  is,  and 
between  two  elevations,  hardly  to  be  dignified  by  the  name  of 
hills,  lies  the  field — spot  of  battle,  spot  of  doom,  "  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death"  to  how  many  brave  men  !  They  still 
show  the  old  table  at  Naseby  where  the  guards  of  Rupert — the 
Cavaliers — sat  the  night  before  the  battle — an  old  oak  table, 
deeply  indented  and  stained  with  the  carousals  of  ages.  The 
battle  of  Marston  field  was  decided  by  about  ten  o'clock  at 
night  ;  the  l)attle  of  Naseby  began  about  ten  in  the  morning,  a 
bright  summer  morning.  When  they  met  there,  those  two 
armies,  amid  the  green  heraldry  of  indignant  Nature,  beneath 
the  song  of  the  startled  lark,  and  the  gay  varieties  of  the  green 
earth,  and  the  dappled  sky,  and  the  springing  corn,  there  rose 
the  Royalists'  cry  of  "  Queen  Mary  !"  answered  by  the  stern, 
gruff  battle  -  shout  of  the  Ironsides,  "God  is  with  us!" 
Rupert  knew  that  Cromwell  was  on  the  field,  and  sought  to 
bring  his  troops  against  the  mighty  Roundhead  ;  but  he  found 
Ireton  instead — a  soldier  who  afterward,  as  Cromwell's  son-in- 
law,  exhibited  much  of  the  iron  resolve  of  his  yet  more  illus- 


THE   BATTLE   OF   NASEBY.  135 

trious  father.  If  any  field  could  have  been  won  by  passion 
alone,  Bupert  would  have  won  not  only  Naseby,  but  many  an- 
other field  ;  but  we  know  that,  as  passion  is  one  of  the  most 
frail  elements  of  our  nature,  so  Rupeix  was  one  of.  the  most 
frail  of  men.  At  the  head  of  his  Cavaliers,  in  white  sash  and 
plume,  he  indeed  flamed  in  brilliant  gallantry  over  the  field, 
shouting,  "  Queen  Mary  !  Queen  Mary  !"  while  the  more 
rough,  unknightly  soldiers  thundered,  '*  God  is  with  us  !  God 
is  with  us  !"  Beholding  Cromwell  flying  from  one  part  of  the 
field  to  another  like  lightning,  breaking  the  enemy's  lines,  it 
might  seem  that  he  too,  like  Rupert,  was  only  impersonated 
passion  ;  but  his  vision  included  the  whole  field,  and  held  all 
that  passion  in  mastery  and  in  check.  At  one  moment,  a  com- 
mander of  the  king's,  knowing  Cromwell,  advanced  briskly 
from  the  head  of  his  troops  to  exchange  a  single  bullet  with 
him.  They  encountered,  their  pistols  discharged,  and  the 
Cavalier,  with  a  slanting  back  blow  of  the  sword,  cut  the  string 
of  Oliver's  helmet,  or  morion.  He  was  just  about  to  repeat 
the  stroke,  but  some  of  Cromwell's  party  passed  by,  rescued 
liim,  and  one  of  them  threw  his  headpiece  on  his  saddle. 
Hastily  Cromwell  caught  it,  and  placed  it  on  his  head  the 
wrong  way,  and  so  through  the  day  he  wore  it  ;  and  every- 
where his  words,  "  God  is  with  us  !"  struck  like  light  over  his 
soldiers'  hearts,  like  lightning  over  his  enemies.  What  was 
there  in  the  poor  cry,  "  Queen  Mary  !"  (and  such  a  Mary  !)  to 
kindle  feelings  like  that  !  Then,  at  last,  the  tide  of  the  day 
turned,  and  the  Royalists  sunk,  or  attempted  to  retain  a 
retreating  fight  among  the  gorse  bushes  and  the  rabbit  warrens, 
which  checked  the  Roundheads'  charge.  But  on  this  field  the 
passionate  Rupert,  as  at  Marston,  supposed  that  he  had  won  the 
day,  and,  thinking  the  victory  all  his  own,  he  clove  his  way 
back  to  the  spot  where  the  poor  helpless  king  was  cheering  his 
dismayed  troopers.  Indeed,  we  can  almost  weep  as  we  hear 
that  cry  from  the  king  :  "  One  charge  more,  gentlemen  !  One 
charge  more,  in  the  name  of  God  !  and  the  day  is  ours."  He 
placed  himself  at  the  hea<l  of  the  troopers,  and  a  thousand  of 


136  OLIVER    CROMWELL, 

them  prepared  to  follow  him.  One  of  his  courtiers  snatched 
his  bridle,  and  turned  him  from  the  path  of  honor  to  that  of 
despair.  "  Why,"  says  one  writer,  "  was  there  no  hand  to 
strike  that  traitor  to  the  ground  ?"  Alas  !  if  the  king's  own 
hand  could  not  strike  that  traitor  to  the  ground,  was  it  possible 
that  another's  could  ?  Who  would  have  dared  to  have  taken 
Cromwell's  bridle  at  such  a  moment  ?  And  so,  at  the  battle  of 
Naseby,  the  crown  fell  from  the  king's  head  and  the  sceptre 
from  his  hand,  and  he  was  henceforth  never  more  in  any  sense 
a  king.  Poor  king  !  "  Who  will  bring  me,"  cried  he  in  de- 
spair, "  this  Cromwell,  dead  or  alive  ?"  Alas  !  your  majesty, 
v)ho? 

Everywhere  Rupert  was  Charles's  evil  genius.  Everywhere 
his  impetuosity  injured  himself,  his  cause,  and  his  royal  mas- 
ter. He  galloped  forward  t.vo  miles  to  ascertain  the  intentions 
of  Fairfax  ;  and  returning,  sent  word  through  the  line  that  he 
was  retreating.  It  was  a  ruse  of  Cromwell's.  He  had  merely 
put  in  motion  a  few  of  his  troops.  Charles,  trusting  to  the 
miserable  deceiving  and  self-deception  of  Rupert,  relinquished 
the  favorable  ground  he  occupied,  and  led  his  battalions  into 
the  plain.  Here  the  great  generals  had  fixed  themselves  in  a 
remarkably  strong  position.  Here  they  were  thundering  out 
their  hymns  in  the  very  enthusiasm  of  a  triumph,  rather  than 
in  expectation  of  a  battle.  Upon  the  field  altogether  there 
were  about  36,000  men.  Rupert  began  the  battle.  He 
charged  Ireton  with  such  boldness  that  even  that  lion  -  like 
ofiicer  sank  before  his  terrible  and  bold  and  passionate  on- 
slaught. Fairfax  that  day,  abandoning  the  privileges  of  a  gen- 
eral, performed  feats  of  valor  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  bare- 
headed. He  everywhere  flamed  resolution  and  courage  over 
every  part  of  the  field,  and  especially  among  the  ranks  of  his 
own  men.  But  he  failed  to  turn  the  fortune  of  the  day.  Ire- 
ton,  on  the  left,  was  routed.  Fairfax,  in  the  centre,  remained 
struggling,  the  fate  of  his  men  undecided.  Cromwell  and  his 
Ironsides  stood  there,  upon  the  right.  They  were  attacked  by 
Sir  Marmaduke  Langdale — lie  might  as  well  have  attacked  a 


THE    BATTLE    OF    JsTASEBY.  137 

rock — when  the  Royalists  recoiled.  The  Ironsides  in  turn  at- 
tacked them,  poured  over  them  a  terrible  and  heavy  fire,  routed 
them,  sent  three  squadrons  after  them  to  prevent  their  rallying, 
and  with  the  remaining  four  hastened  to  Fairfax,  and,  with  an 
overpowering  shock,  dashed  through,  scattered,  and  cut  down 
the  Royalists,  hoping  for  victory  in  the  centre.  In  vain 
Charles,  with  remarkable  bravery,  sought  to  recover  the  for- 
tune of  the  fight.  He  no  doubt  felt  at  that  moment  the  hope- 
less ruin  of  his  cause. 

"  One  more  charge,"  said  the  poor  defeated  king,  "  and  we 
recover  the  day. ' ' 

This  is  the  moment  which  Lord  Macaulay  has  seized  in  his 
fine  lyric,  "  The  Battle  of  Naseby, "  too  lengthy  to  quote 
entire.  The  following  verses  commence  with  the  rout  of  the 
Roundheads,  and  the  sudden  rush  down  of  Oliver  with  his 
Ironsides  : 

' '  They  are  here  !     They  rush  on  !     We  are  broken  !     We  are  gone  ! 
Our  left  is  borne  before  them  like  stubble  on  the  blast. 
O  Lord,  put  forth  Thy  might  !     0  Lord,  defend  the  right ! 
Stand  back  to  back,  in  God's  name,  and  fight  it  to  the  last. 

' '  Stout  Skippon  hath  a  wound  ;  the  centre  hath  given  ground  : 
Hark  !  hark  !   What  means  the  trampling  of  horsemen  on  our  rear  ? 
Whose  banner  do  I  see,  boys  ?     'Tis  he,  thank  God,  'tis  ne,  boys  ! 
Bear  up  another  minute  :  brave  Oliver  is  here. 

"  Their  heads  all  stooping  low,  their  points  all  in  a  row. 
Like  a  whirlwind  on  the  trees,  like  a  deluge  on  the  dykes, 
Our  cuirassiers  have  burst  on  the  ranks  of  the  accurst, 
And  at  a  shock  have  scattered  the  forest  of  his  pikes. 

"  Fast,  fast  the  gallants  ride,  in  some  safe  nook  to  hide 
Their  coward  heads,  predestined  to  rot  on  Tem^jle  Bar  ; 
And  he — he  turns,  he  flies  ;  shame  on  those  cruel  eyes 
That  bore  to  look  on  torture,  and  dare  not  look  on  war." 

Never  was  rout  more  thorough  and  complete.  Two  thou- 
sand men  were  left  dead  on  the  field.  "  God  is  with  us  !"  had 
been  the  noble  watchword  of  the  Parliamentarians;  "Queen 
Mary  !"  was  the  watchword  of  the  Royalists.     Is  there  not 


138  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

something  very  significant  in  the  different  success  of  such  mot- 
toes ?  The  king  here  lost  all.  The  prisoners  taken  were  five 
thousand  foot  and  three  thousand  horse.  They  captured  the 
whole  of  Charles's  artillery,  eight  thousand  stand  of  arms, 
above  a  hundred  pair  of  colors,  the  royal  standard,  the  king's 
cabinet  of  letters  (alas  !),  and  the  whole  spoil  of  the  camp. 
That  cabinet  of  letters  revealed,  beyond  all  question,  the  per- 
fidy of  the  king  ;  proved  that  he  never  desired  peace,  and 
made  his  favorite  exclamation,  "On  the  word  of  a  king,"  a 
byword,  and,  for  some  time,  the  synonym  of  a  lie.  The  let- 
ters were  all  published,  after  having  been  read  aloud  to  the 
assembled  citizens  in  Guildhall,  that  all  the  people  might  satisfy 
themselves  of  their  monarch's  probity.  This  battle  was  fought 
on  the  14th  of  June,  1645,  and  increased  Cromwell's  influence 
amazingly. 

And  now  we  follow  him  through  a  long  series  of  most  daring 
and  brilliant  adventures,  conquests,  and  expeditions.  Rapidly 
he  covered — he  overspread  the  land  with  his  victorious  men  of 
iron.  His  viijilance  was  wonderful.  Town  after  town  was 
taken.  He  swept  over  the  country  like  a  tempest.  Leicester, 
and  thence  to  Bridgewater,  Shaftesbury,  Bristol,  Devizes.  Sum- 
moning the  last-mentioned  town  to  surrender  :  "  Win  it,  and 
wear  it,"  said  the  governor.  Cromwell  did  both.  He  then 
stormed  Berkeley  Castle,  and  threw  himself  before  Winchester. 
The  last-named  place  surrendered  by  capitulation.  While  here 
he  very  courteously  sent  in  to  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  and 
offered  him  a  guard  to  secure  his  person  ;  but  the  bishop,  fly- 
ing into  the  castle,  refused  his  courtesy.  Afterward,  when  the 
castle  began  to  be  battered  by  two  pieces  of  ordnance,  he  sent 
to  the  lieutenant-general,  thanking  him  for  the  great  favor 
offered  to  him,  and  being  now  more  sensible  what  it  was,  he 
desired  the  enjoyment  of  it.  To  whom  the  wise  lieutenant- 
general  replied,  that  since  he  made  not  use  of  the  courtesy,  but 
wilfully  ran  away  from  it,  he  must  now  partake  of  the  same 
conditions  as  the  others  who  were  with  him  in  the  castle  ;  and 
if  he  were  taken,  he  must  expect  to  be  used  as  a  prisoner  of 


THE    BATTLE    OF   NASEBY.  13f» 

war.  Anotlier  interesting  incident  illustrates  Cromwell's  strict 
severity  in  exacting  compliance,  from  his  own  army,  with  its 
articles.  When  information  was  laid  before  him  by  the  van- 
quished that  they  had  been  plundered  by  some  of  his  soldiers 
on  leaving  the  city,  contrary  to  the  terms  granted  to  them,  he 
ordered  the  offenders  to  be  tried  by  a  court-martial,  at  which 
they  were  sentenced  to  death.  Whereupon  he  ordered  the  un- 
fortunate men,  who  were  six  in  number,  to  cast  lots  for  the 
first  sufferer  ;  and  after  his  execution,  sent  the  remaining  five, 
with  a  suitable  explanation,  to  Sir  Thomas  Glenham,  Governor 
of  Oxford,  requesting  him  to  deal  with  them  as  he  thought  fit  : 
a  piece  of  conduct  which  so  charmed  the  Royalist  officer,  that 
he  immediately  returned  the  men  to  Cromwell,  with  a  grateful 
compliment,  and  expression  of  much  respect. 

Still  on  !  on  !  After  Winchester,  Basing  fell  before  him  ; 
this  was  thought  to  be  one  of  the  most  impregnable  of  for- 
tresses. Then  Salisbury  ;  then  Exeter,  where  he  fought  Lord 
Wentworth  and  took  five  hundred  prisoners  and  six  standards, 
one  of  which  was  the  king's  ;  then  pouring  along  Cornwall,  he 
scattered  the  last  remnants  of  the  Royalist  army  ;  and,  by  and 
by,  after  innumerable  other  victories,  entered  London,  greeted 
with  extraordinary  honors.  The  instant  he  entered  the  House, 
all  the  members  rose  to  receive  him,  and  the  Speaker  pro- 
nounced a  long  and  elaborate  eulogium,  closing  with  "  the 
hearty  thanks  of  the  House  for  his  many  services. ' '  An  annu- 
ity of  £2500  appears  to  have  been  granted  to  Cromwell  and  his 
family,  including  estates  escheated  to  the  Parliamentary  cause. 
In  the  presence  of  all  this,  Hume's  sneer  at  him  as  an  inferior 
general  is  as  laughable  as  it  is  contemptible  and  mean.  Of 
those  days  of  Cromwell's  rapid  flights  hither  and  thither,  all 
England  retains  to  this  day  the  footmarks.  No  wonder  that 
Essex  and  Manchester  did  not  move  sufficiently  rapid  for  him. 
Cromwell,  we  see,  decided  the  popular  cause.  Royalism  now  lay 
prostrate  before  his  feet  by  a  series  of  the  most  astounding  vic- 
tories of  which  our  kingdom  ever  had  the  impress  or  told  the 
tale.     His  presence  was  certain  victory.     Invincible  !  we  surely 


140  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

may  call  him.  There  is  no  corner  of  England  where  ruins  of 
old  feudal  state  or  m'onastic  grandeur  are  not  coupled  with  the 
name  of  Cromwell  ;  and  while,  doubtless,  his  name  will  be 
mentioned  in  connectioti  with  spots  he  never  saw,  it  yet  gives 
to  us  an  idea  of  the  wonderful  universality  of  his  power  and 
conquest. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CROMWELL    IN    IRELAND. 

But  it  has  been  said  that  there  is  one  place  where  we  dare 
not  follow  him — Ireland.  Let  us  see.  The  Irish  Roman  Cath- 
olics had  broken  out  in  rebellion,  and  had  massacred  (according 
to  various  accounts)  from  fifty  thousand  to  two  hundred  thou- 
sand victims.  This  was  the  Hibernian  St.  Bartholomew.  The 
Irish,  indeed,  at  this  time  determined  on  erasing  every  vestige 
of  the  English  name  from  their  country. 

This  great  insurrection  had  broken  out  in  1640  ;  it  was  not 
until  after  a  long  succession  of  murders,  pillages,  wild  confla- 
grations, and  excommunications  that  Cromwell  was  called  upon 
by  the  Parliament,  in  1649,  to  go  there  as  Lord-Lieutenant,  to 
attempt  what  really  must  be  a  difficult  conquest.  Guizot  says, 
"  The  Protestants  of  Ireland  had  been  ejected  from  their 
houses,  hunted  down,  slaughtered,  and  exposed  to  all  the  tort- 
ures that  religious  and  patriotic  hatred  could  invent  ;  a  half- 
savage  people,  passionately  attached  to  their  barbarism,  eager 
to  avenge,  in  a  day,  ages  of  outrage  and  misery,  with  a  proud 
joy  committed  excesses  which  struck  their  ancient  masters  with 
horror  and  dismay."  And,  in  fact,  Cromwell  undertook  the 
task  with  great  reluctance,  and  probably  foresaw  that  there 
would  be  terrible  reprisals. 

"  In  fact,"  writes  Merle  D'Aubigne,  "  the  Catholics  burned 
the  houses  of  the  Protestants,  turned  them  out  naked  in  the 
midst  of  winter,  and  drove  them,  like  herds  of  swine,  before 
them.  If,  ashamed  of  their  nudity,  and  desirous  of  seeking 
shelter  from  the  rigor  of  a  remarkably  severe  season,  these  un- 
haj^py  wretches  took  refuge  in  a  barn,  and  concealed  themselves 
under  the  straw,  the  rebels  instantly  set  fire  to  it  and  burned 
them  alive.  At  other  times  they  were  led  without  clothing  to 
de  drowned  in  rivers  ;  and  if,  on  the  road,  they  did  not  move 


142  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

quick  enough,  they  were  urged  forward  at  the  point  of  the 
pike.  When  they  reached  the  river  or  the  sea,  they  were  pre- 
cipitated into  it,  in  bands  of  several  hundreds,  which  is  doubt- 
less an  exaggeration.  If  these  poor  wretches  arose  to  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  men  were  stationed  along  the  brink  to  plunge 
them  in  again  with  the  butts  of  their  muskets,  or  to  fire  at  and 
kill  them.  Husbands  were  cut  to  pieces  in  the  presence  of  their 
wives  ;  wives  and  virgins  were  abused  in  the  sight  of  their 
nearest  relations  ;  and  infants  of  seven  or  eight  years  were  hung 
before  the  eyes  of  their  parents.  Nay,  the  Irish  even  went  so 
far  as  to  teach  their  own  children  to  strip  and  kill  the  children 
of  the  English,  and  dash  out  their  brains  against  the  stones. 
Numbers  of  Protestants  were  buried  alive,  as  many  as  seventy 
in  one  trench.  An  Irish  priest,  named  MacOdeghan,  captured 
forty  or  fifty  Protestants,  and  persuaded  them  to  abjure  their 
religion  on  a  promise  of  quarter.  After  their  abjuration,  he 
asked  them  if  they  believed  that  Christ  was  bodily  present  in 
the  Host,  and  that  the  Pope  was  head  of  the  Church  ?  and  on 
their  replying  in  the  afiirmative,  he  said,  '  Now,  then,  you  are 
in  a  very  good  faith  !  '  and,  for  fear  they  should  relapse  into 
heresy,  he  cut  all  their  throats." 

Let  these  facts  always  be  borne  in  mind  when  we  look  on 
Cromwell  in  Ireland. 

This  rebellion,  which  broke  out  in  1640,  had,  through  the 
necessity  of  the  times,  been  much  neglected  till  1649.  The 
Parliament,  indeed,  had  long  before  got  possession  of  Dublin, 
which  was  delivered  up  to  them  by  the  Marquis  of  Ormond, 
who  was  then  oblio;ed  to  come  over  to  Eno-land.  But  beina: 
recalled  by  the  Irish,  Ormond  made  a  league  with  them  in  favor 
of  the  king,  and  brought  over  most  of  the  kingdom  into  a 
union  with  the  Royalists,  Londonderry  and  Dublin  were  the 
only  places  that  held  out  for  the  Parliament,  and  the  latter  was 
in  great  danger  of  being  lost.  This  compelled  Colonel  Jones, 
the  Governor,  to  send  over  to  England  for  succor  ;  and  a  con- 
siderable body  of  forces  was  thereupon  ordered  for  Ireland. 
The  command  of  these  v'        ffered  to  Cromwell,  who  accepted 


CKOMWELL   IN    IRELAKD.  143 

it  with  seeming  reluctance  ;  professing  "  that  the  difficulty 
which  appeared  in  the  expedition,  was  his  chief  motive  for 
engaging  in  it  ;  and  that  he  hardly  expected  to  prevail  over  the 
rebels,  but  only  to  preserve  to  the  Commonwealth  some  footing 
in  that  kingdom. ' ' 

The  Parliament  was  so  pleased  with  his  answer,  that,  on  the 
22d  of  June,  1649,  it  gave  him  a  commission  to  command  all 
the  forces  that  should  be  sent  into  Ireland,  and  to  be  Lord- 
Governor  of  that  kingdom  for  tliree  years,  in  all  affairs  both 
civil  and  military-.  From  the  very  minute  of  his  receiving  this 
charge,  Cromwell  used  an  incredible  expedition  in  the  raising 
of  money,  providing  of  shipping,  and  drawing  the  forces  to- 
gether for  their  intended  enterprise.  The  soldiery  marched 
with  great  speed  to  the  rendezvous  at  Milford  Haven,  there  to 
expect  the  new  Lord-Deputy,  who  followed  them  from  London 
on  the  10th  of  July.  His  setting  out  was  very  pompous, 
being  drawn  in  a  coach  with  six  horses,  and  attended  by  many 
members  of  the  Parliament  and  Council  of  State,  with  the  chief 
of  the  army  ;  his  life-guard,  consisting  of  eighty  men  who  had 
formerly  been  commanders,  all  bravely  mounted  and  accoutred, 
both  they  and  their  servants. 

He  was  received  with  extraordinary  honors  at  Bristol. 
Thence  he  went  to  Wales,  and  embarked  for  Ireland  from  the 
lovely  and  magnificent  haven  of  Milford,  and  at  last  arrived  in 
Dublin.  Reviewing  his  army  of  twelve  thousand  men — appar- 
ently a  small  army,  indeed,  for  such  a  work  ! — there,  he  ad- 
vanced to  Drogheda,  or  Tredagh,  which  he  took  by  storm. 
His  advance  through  the  country  was  a  continued  triumph,  a 
repetition  of  the  same  wonderful  career  which  closed  the  war 
with  Charles  in  Eng-land.  The  taking;  of  Tredatjh  was  a  feat  of 
extraordinary  strength  ;  so  much  so,  that  the  brave  O'Neal 
swore  a  great  oath,  "  That  if  Cromwell  had  taken  Tredagh,  if 
he  could  storm  hell,  he  would  take  it  also  !"  Terrible  also  was 
the  contest  of  Clonmell,  before  which  Cromwell  sat  down  with 
the  resolution  of  fighting  and  of  conquest. 

Many  persons  were  here  taken,  and  among  them  the  cele- 


14A  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

brated  figliting  Bishop  of  Ross,  who  was  carried  to  a  castle 
kept  by  his  own  forces,  and  there  hanged  before  the  walls,  in 
sight  of  the  garrison  ;  which  so  discouraged  them  that  they 
immediately  surrendered  to  the  Parliament's  forces.  This 
bishop  was  used  to  say,  "  There  was  no  way  of  curing  the  Eng- 
lish, "but  by  hanging  them.'* 

For  all  this  tremendous  havoc,  the  most  terrible  oath  an 
Irishman  knows  to  the  present  day  is  "  The  curse  of  Crom- 
well !"  And  the  massacres  and  the  besiesjements  are  ever 
called  in  to  blacken  the  great  general's  memory  by  writers,  for 
instance,  like  Clarendon.  And  what  did  Cromwell  do  first? 
All  husbandmen,  and  laborers,  ploughmen,  artificers,  and  oth- 
ers of  the  meaner  sort  of  the  Irish  nation,  were  to  be  exempted 
from  question  in  reference  to  the  eight  years  of  blood  and  mis- 
ery, now  ended.  As  to  the  ringleaders,  indeed,  and  those  who 
could  be  proved  to  be  really  concerned  in  the  massacre  of 
1641,  there  was  for  these  a  carefully  graduated  scale  of  punish- 
ments— banishment,  death,  but  only  after  exact  inquiry  and 
proof.  Those  in  arms  at  certain  dates  against  the  Parliament, 
but  not  in  the  massacre,  these  were  not  to  forfeit  their  estates, 
but  lands,  to  a  third  of  their  value,  in  Connaught  were  to  be 
assigned  to  them.  Others  not  well  affected  to  Parliament  were 
to  forfeit  one  third  of  their  estates,  and  to  remain  quiet  at  their 
peril.  The  Catholic  aristocracy,  we  see,  were  to  be  punished 
for  their  guilty  bloodsheddings,  but  the  "  ploughmen,  hus- 
bandmen, and  artificers  of  the  meaner  sort  were  to  be  exempted 
from  all  question."  Clarendon  admitted  that  Ireland  flour- 
ished under  this  arrangement  to  a  surprising  extent  ;  and 
Thomas  Carlyle  v/ell  says,  "  This  curse  of  Cromwell,  so  called, 
is  the  only  gospel  of  veracity  I  can  yet  discover  to  have  been 
ever  fairly  afoot  there." 

Cromwell  returned  to  London  in  the  month  of  May,  1650,  as 
a  soldier  who  had  gained  more  laurels  and  done  more  wonders 
in  nine  months  than  any  age  or  history  could  parallel,  and 
sailed  home,  as  it  were,  in  triumph.  At  Bristol  he  was  twice 
saluted  by  the  great  guns,  and  welcomed  back  with  many  other 


CROMWELL   IJf   IRELAXD,  145 

demonstrations  of  joy.  On  Hounslow  Heath  lie  was  met  by 
General  Fairfax,  many  members  of  Parliament,  and  officers  of 
the  army,  and  multitudes  of  the  common  people.  Coming  to 
Hyde  Park,  he  was  received  by  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Corpora- 
tion of  the  City  of  London  ;  the  great  guns  were  fired  off,  and 
Colonel  Barkstead's  regiment,  which  was  drawn  up  for  that 
purpose,  gave  him  several  volleys  with  their  small  arms.  Thus 
in  a  triumphant  manner  he  entered  London,  amid  a  crowd  of 
attendants,  and  was  received  with  the  highest  acclamations. 
And  after  resuming  his  place  in  Parliament,  the  Speaker,  in 
an  eloquent  speech,  returned  him  the  thanks  of  the  Plouse  for 
his  great  and  faithful  services  in  Ireland  ;  after  which,  the 
Lord-Lieutenant  gave  them  a  particular  account  of  the  state  and 
condition  of  that  kingdom.  It  was  while  he  rode  thus  in  state 
through  London  that  Oliver  replied  to  some  sycophantic  per- 
son, who  had  observed,  ' '  "What  a  crowd  comes  out  to  see  your 
lordship's  triumph  !"  "  Yes  ;  but  if  it  were  to  see  me  hanged, 
how  many  more  would  there  be  !"  Here  is  a  clear-headed, 
practical  man. 

But  it  was  a  busy  life  ;  his  three  years  Lord-Lieutenancy  had 
evidently  been  remitted  ;  for  other  and  urgent  matters  de- 
manded such  a  baton  as  he  alone  could  wield  ;  and  when  he 
had  struck  down  the  rebellion,  the  Parliament  recalled  him, 
and  he  arrived  in  London  May  31st,  1050.  On  the  29th  of 
June,  within  a  single  month  of  his  arrival  at  home,  he  set  forth 
on  his  great  military  expedition  to  Scotland.  The  Parliament 
had  wished  Lord  Fairfax  to  take  command,  and  set  things  right 
there  ;  but,  although  Fairfax  was  an  Independent,  his  wife  was 
a  Presbyterian,  and  she  would  not  allow  her  husband  to  go. 
We  believe  that  it  was  very  well  that  it  was  so. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

CROMWELL    AT    DUNBAR. 

Mr.  Andrew  Bisset  lias  written  at  greater  lengtli  probably 
than  any  other  recent  historian,  concerning  what  he  calls 
Cromwell's  invasion  of  Scotland,  and  especially  concerning  the 
battle  of  Dunbar.  The  description  of  that  battle-field,  our 
readers  do  not  need  to  be  told,  is  one  of  Carlyle's  noblest  bat- 
tle-pieces. Mr.  Bisset,  however,  writes  in  the  earnest  desire  in 
some  measure  to  account  for,  and  to  cover  the  disgrace  of,  that 
defeat.  Nor  does  he  altogether  fail.  He  entertains  a  pleasant 
idea  that  Cromwell  was  a  poor  general  ;  that  he  never  on  any 
occasion,  not  even  at  Dunbar,  exhibited  that  higher  military 
genius  which  dazzles  and  excites.  He  believes  that  his  merit 
as  a  general  was  confined  to  his  raising  a  body  of  troops  who 
were  well  fed  and  well  disciplined.  Cromwell,  he  thinks,  had 
a  fertile  genius  in  craft,  and,  to  use  historian  Bisset's  words, 
"  There  are  many  villains  who  ow^e  their  success,  both  in  pub- 
lic and  private  life,  to  the  same  arts  by  which  Oliver  Cromwell 
overreached  his  friends  and  his  party,  and  made  himself  abso- 
lute ruler  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland."  It  is  singular 
that,  according  to  the  theory  of  Mr.  Bisset,  the  amazing  craft 
which  he  unquestionably  possessed  in  council,  he  never  dis- 
played on  the  field.  He  remarks  again  :  "  The  battle  of  Dun- 
bar was  the  only  battle  in  these  wars,  except  those  battles 
fought  by  Montrose,  in  which  any  considerable  degree  of  gen- 
eralship was  shown.  Most  of  the  battles  of  this  great  Civil 
War  were  steady  pounding  matches,  where  the  hostile  armies 
drew  up  in  parallel  lines,  and  fought  till  one  was  beaten,"  It 
is  not  necessary  to  stay  a  moment  to  refute  this  eminently  fool- 
ish verdict  of  a  really  very  well -informed  man  ;  still,  had  we  any 
personal  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Bisset,  we  should  like  to  lay 
before  him  the  strategic  plans  of  the  fields  of  Marston,  Naseby, 


CROMWELL   AT   DUISTBAR.  147 

and  others,  whicli  perhaps  would  demonstrate  that  they  were 
no  more  mere  "  pounding  matches"  than  were  any  of  the  great 
fields  of  Marlborough  or  of  Wellington.  It  certainly  does  ap- 
pear that  David  Leslie,  the  commander  of  the  Scots  at  Dunbar, 
found  his  hands  tied  by  a  committee  ;  and  any  kind  of  battle 
anywhere  Biay  be  lost,  but,  probably,  no  battle  of  any  kind 
was  ever  gained,  by  a  committee.  The  English  array  reached 
Dunbar  on  the  night  of  Sunday,  the  1st  of  September,  1650  ; 
it  was  rainy  and  tempestuous  weather  ;  the  poor  army  drew  up 
amid  swamps  and  bogs,  but  could  not  pitch  a  tent  ;  the  expres- 
sions in  Crornwell's  letter  seem  to  show  that  he  felt  himself 
reduced  to  extremities.  To  those  extremities  we  may  refer 
presently.  A  dispassionate  glance,  however,  at  the  state  of 
affairs,  does  not  permit  us  to  suppose  that,  under  the  most 
favorable  circumstances,  the  Scots  could  have  been  successful. 
A  piece  of  grim  folly  it  appears,  to  constitute  a  Committee  of 
Estates,  or  a  Committee  of  Court  Commissioners  into  a  council 
of  war,  to  regulate  and  coerce  the  will  of  a  commander  or  gen- 
eral of  forces.  But  this  was  actually  the  case  ;  and  it  was  to 
this  Committee  Cromwell  was  indebted  for  that  false  move 
which  Leslie  made,  and  which  the  vigilant  eye  of  the  great 
English  commander  so  soon  perceived  and  turned  to  fearful 
account.  But  it  appears  clearly  the  case  that,  if  Leslie  had  not 
made  this  disadvantageous  move,  he  could  have  had  little 
chance  against  the  inferior  numbers  of  the  English  army. 
Cromwell's  soldiers  were  no  doubt  in  uncomfortable  circum-_ 
stances  amid  the  swamps  and  the  bogs,  but  they  were  well  ap- 
pointed, well  trained  and  disciplined,  well  fed,  and  well 
armed  ;  in  fact,  they  had  come  forth,  as  Mr.  Bisset  pleases  to 
call  it,  to  invade  Scotland  !  but  in  reality  to  repel  the  Scotch 
invasion  of  England  ;  and  the  English  nation  was  behind  them. 
The  Scottish  country  in  those  days  was  not  charming  ;  the 
contrast  is  strongly  expressed  by  some  of  the  invaders  of  tlieir 
impressions  of  the  Scottish  as  contrasted  with  the  English  vil- 
lages. For  the  English  village,  even  in  those  days,  was  per- 
haps not  less  romantic  and  picturesquely  pleasant  than  now  ; 


148  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

nay,  perhaps,  in  innumerable  instances  even  more  so.  The 
pleasant  village  green,  the  old  stone  church,  even  then  of  many 
generations,  the — compared  with  our  times — rough  but  yet 
well-to-do  farm,  perhaps  generally  of  that  style  we  call  the 
"  watling  plaster,"  the  straggling  laborers'  cottages,  running 
along  the  village  for  a  mile,  with  their  gardens,  if  not  trim  and 
neat,  yet,  from  what  we  know  of  the  Culpeppers  and  other 
such  writers  of  the  time,  redundant  in  their  wealth  of  herbs 
and  flowers  ;  the  old  villages  of  the  England  of  that  day  look 
quite  as  attractive,  beneath  their  lines  of  rugged  elms  and  their 
vast  yew  trees'  shade,  as  now.  Those  belonging  to  the  Pro- 
tector's array  who  have  recorded  their  impressions,  contrast  all 
this  with  that  which  greeted  their  eyes  in  Scottish  villages  as 
they  passed  along.  They  saw  nothing  to  remind  them  of  the 
beauty  of  the  English  village  ;  for  the  most  part  these  were 
assemblages  of  mere  clay  or  mud  hovels.  Land,  it  seemed, 
was  too  valuable  in  Scotland  to  be  wasted  on  cottage  gardens 
and  village  greens.  And  from  such  homes  as  these  the  inhabi- 
tants were  dragged  forth  by  their  lairds  with  no  very  good  will 
of  their  own,  and  they  appear,  as  they  gathered  into  their 
ranks,  to  have  been  badly  fed  and  badly  accoutred.  All  this 
may  partly  apologize  for  the  exceedingly  irascible  language  his- 
torian Bisset  indulges  in  when  he  says,  "  In  the  long  black 
catalogue  of  disasters  brought  upon  Scotland,  during  a  period 
of  five  hundred  years,  by  rulers  whom  God  in  His  wTath  had 
sent  to  be  her  curse,  her  scourge,  and  her  shame,  there  is  none 
greater  or  more  shameful  than  this  rout  of  Dunbar."  The 
good  historian  Bisset,  it  would  seem,  has  some  personal  strong 
feelings  which  irritate  him  as  he  attempts  to  depreciate  the 
merits  of  the  victory  of  Cromwell  at  Dunbar.  Our  readers  will 
j)erhaps  think  his  notes  of  depreciation  very  slight  when  he 
alleges,  that  Cromwell  had  not  gained  the  victory  probably, 
(luly  that  in  the  first  instance  he  availed  himself  of  Leslie's  bad 
move,  and  in  the  next  instance  in  the  conflict  he  "  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  initiative,''  which  also  seems  very  foolish  rea- 
soning on  the  part  of  historian  Bisset.      \Miether  in  all  the  bat- 


CROMWELL   AT    DUNBAR.  149 

ties  he  fought  he  took  the  initiative  or  not,  it  is  not  necessary 
here  to  discuss  ;  but  he  watched  the  moment,  whenever  that 
moment  might  he,  and  then,  striking  sudden,  swift,  and  sharp, 
with  all  the  celerity  of  lightning,  this  was  certainly  a  way,  and 
for  his  enemies  a  very  unpleasant  way,  Cromwell  had. 

But  disposing  of  and  dismissing  Mr.  Historian  Bisset,  it  still 
remains  true,  that  to  see  Cromwell  in  the  full  height  of  his 
greatness,  we  must  follow  him  to  Scotland,  to  Dunbar. 

It  is  tolerably  easy  to  understand  the  state  of  the  question. 
We  hav^e  seen  the  Scots  aiding  the  Parliament  and  doinw  battle 
with  the  king — nay,  selling  him.  But  they  desired  the  victory 
of  Presbyterianism  ;  Cromwell  was  opposed  to  the  elevation  of 
any  sect.  This  was  one  chief  cause  of  the  antipathy  of  the 
Scotch.  Then  they  invited  Charles,  son  of  the  late  king,  from 
Holland,  and  proclaimed  him  king  of  the  Scots  ;  they  did  not 
know,  when  they  invited  him,  that,  with  the  perfidy  and  vil- 
lainy hereditary  in  his  family,  he  had  issued  a  commission  em- 
powering Montrose  to  raise  troops  and  to  subdue  the  country 
by  force  of  arms.  Our  readers  have  not  to  learn,  now,  that 
Charles  H.  was,  perhaps  in  a  deeper  degree  than  any  of  his 
ancestors  or  descendants,  false,  treacherous,  and  licentious. 
He  signed  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  of  Scotland,  sup- 
porting the  Protestant  religion,  at  the  very  moment  he  was  in 
attempted  negotiation  with  Rome  for  befriending  the  Papacy. 
He  was,  however,  proclaimed  king  of  the  Scots,  and  the  Scots 
had  a  perfect  right  to  elect  him  to  be  their  monarch  ;  but  he 
aimed  at  the  recovery  of  Scotland  in  order  to  recover  the 
crowns  of  the  three  kingdoms.  To  win  Scotland  to  help  him 
in  this,  he  would  not  only  sign  the  Covenant,  he  proffered  to 
sign  a  declaration  by  which  he  renounced  all  Papacy  and  Epis- 
copacy. But  pledged  word  or  oath  were  of  very  little  account 
with  him. 

It  was  surely  a  strange  procedure,  that  in  Scotland,  where 
Jenny  Geddes  had  hurled  her  cutty-stool  against  Popery,  ami 
where  first  the  storm  had  raged  forth  against  the  despotism  and 
tyranny  of  the  Stuarts — it  was  surely  strange,  that  there,  of  all 


150  OLIVER   CEOMWELL. 

places  in  the  British  Empire,  Charles  II.  should  be  received. 
It  is  clearly  obvious  that  the  aim  of  the  Scotch  clergy  was  to 
impose  Presbyterianism  upon  the  whole  of  the  empire.  Scot- 
land looks  very  bad  in  this  business.  However,  Cromwell,  now 
proclaimed  Lord-General  of  the  Parliamentary  forces,  has  to 
march  away  with  all  speed  to  settle,  as  best  he  may,  th^se  new 
and  final  differences.  He  entered  Scotland  on  the  23d  of  July, 
1650,  with  11,000  horse  and  foot,  commanded  under  him  by 
Generals  Fleetwood,  Lambert,  and  Whally  ;  and  Colonels 
Pride,  Overton,  and  Monk.  He  found  before  him,  whitherso- 
ever he  went,  a  desolation  ;  the  Scotch  preachers  had  described 
the  Enoflish  soldiers  as  monsters,  delishtino;  in  the  murder  or 
the  mutilation  of  women  and  children.  The  peasantry,  having 
destroyed  what  they  must  have  been  compelled  to  leave,  fled 
M'ith  whatever  they  could  remove.  How  far  they  misunder- 
stood the  character  of  their  great  enemj,  we  shall  by  and  by 
see  ;  indeed,  it  appears  that  very  soon  the  Scots  came  to  know 
him  better.  There  had  come  before  him  a  report  that  the 
English  army  intended  to  put  all  the  men  to  the  sword,  and  to 
thrust  hot  irons  through  the  women's  breasts  ;  but  the  general's 
proclamation  soon  eased  them  upon  that  score,  and  according 
to  the  documents  of  Whitelock,  it  appears  that  the  women 
stayed  behind  their  husbands,  to  provide  bread  and  drink,  by 
baking  and  brewing,  for  the  English  army. 

For  a  vivid,  accurate  knowledge — nay,  more,  for  a  bright, 
gleaming  canvas  cartoon,  or  picture,  of  the  great  battle  of 
Dunbar,  let  any  one  read  the  ciccount  as  given  us  by  Carlyle.* 
So  vivid  is  the  picture,  that  we  can  see  the  disposition  of  those 
armies,  and  the  full  array  of  all  that  magnificent  scenery,  upon 
Monday,  the  2d  of  September,  1G50.  The  little  town  of  Dun- 
bar comes  out  plainly  before  us,  on  its  high  and  windy  hill, 
overlooking  its  ancient  castle,  and  its  rocky  promontories 
stretching  along  the  sea,  fishing  villages,  and  indenting  bays. 
On  the  hills,  see  the  long  array  of  Leslie's  army — one  of  the 

*  Ci'dawell's  "Letters  and  Speeches,"  vol.  iii.  p.  38, 


CROMWELL   AT    DUNBAR.  151 

Inrgest  and  most  important  Scotland  ever  mustered,  twenty- 
seven  thousand  men  skirting  the  Lammermuirs  ;  and  there, 
down  beneath,  near  where  the  peninsula  stretches  out  to  the 
sea,  there  is  Oliver,  with  his  less  than  eleven  thousand.  He 
never  was  in  so  critical  a  position  before.  There  is  no  re- 
treat ;  behind  him  is  the  sea.  In  front  of  him  is  Leslie  and 
the  heath — continents  of  bog-  and  swamp,  where  none  but  the 
mountain  sheep  can,  with  any  safety,  travel — the  Lammermoor. 
Well  may  we  ask,  What  is  Oliver  to  do  now  ? 

What  is  Oliver  to  do  now  ?  It  does  appear  as  if  he  is  to  be 
annihilated  here,  in  this  wilderness  ;  for  wide  all  round  looms 
the  desolation  over  the  whole  ground  occupied  by  the  contend- 
ing armies.  It  appears  there  were  then  only  two  houses  and 
farmsteads.  On  this  Monday  there  had  been  some  slight 
skirmishino;.  Leslie's  horse  dashed  across  those  little  huts, 
occupied  by  Lambert's,  or  Pride's  foot  and  horse,  and  seized 
three  prisoners,  one  a  musketeer,  a  spirited  fellow,  with  a 
wooden  arm.  On  being  brought  before  Leslie,  he  was  asked, 
"  Do  the  enemy  intend,  to  tight  V  The  man  replied,  "  "What 
do  you  think  we  come  here  for  ?  We  come  for  nothing  else." 
"  Soldier,"  said  Leslie,  "  how  will  you  fight,  when  you  have 
shipped  half  your  men  and  all  your  great  guns  ?"  The  answer 
was,  "  Sir,  if  you  please  to  draw  down  your  men,  you  shall 
find  both  men  and  great  guns  too."  To  one  of  the  officers 
who  asked  him  how  he  dared  reply  so  saucily  to  the  general, 
he  said,  "  I  only  answer  the  question  put  to  me."  Leslie  sent 
him  across,  free  again,  by  a  trumpet  ;  and  making  his  way  to 
Cromwell,  he  reported  what  had  passed,  adding,  "  I  for  one 
have  lost  twenty  shillings  by  the  business,  plundered  from  me 
in  this  skirmish."  Thereupon  the  Lord-General  gave  him  two 
pieces,  which  are  forty  shillings,  and  sent  him  away  rejoicing. 

It  will  be  well  also  to  read  the  following  letter,  in  which  we 
have  so  mingled  a  tone  of  cheerfulness  and  caution.  He 
evidently  was  preparing  for  the  worst,  and  yet  looked  for- 
ward to  the  probability  of  some  interposition  for  help  and 
deliverance, 


152  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

' '  To  Sir  Arthur  Hazlerig,   Governor  of  Newcastle :   Tliese. 

*'  Dunbar,  2d  September,  1650. 

"  Dear  Sir, — We  are  here  upon  an  engagement  very  diffi- 
cult. The  enemy  hath  blocked  up  our  way  at  the  Pass  at  Cop- 
perspath ^through  which  we  cannot  go  without  almost  a  miracle. 
He  lieth  so  upon  the  hills  that  we  know  not  how  to  come  that 
way  without  great  difficulty  ;  and  our  lying  here  daily  con- 
sumeth  our  men,  who  fall  sick  beyond  imagination, 

"  I  perceive  your  forces  are  not  in  a  capacity  for  present 
release.  Wherefore,  whatever  becomes  of  us,  it  will  be  well 
for  you  to  get  what  forces  you  can  together  ;  and  the  south  to 
help  what  they  can.  The  business  nearly  concerneth  all  good 
people.  If  your  forces  had  been  in  a  readiness  to  have  fallen 
upon  the  back  of  Coppersgate,  it  might  have  occasioned 
supplies  to  have  come  to  us.  But  the  only  wise  God  knows 
what  is  best.  All  shall  work  for  good.  Our  spirits  [minds] 
are  comfortable,  praised  be  the  Lord,  though  our  present  con- 
dition be  as  it  is.  And  indeed  we  have  much  hope  in  the 
Lord  ;  of  whose  mercy  we  have  had  large  experience. 

"  Indeed,  do  you  get  together  what  forces  you  can  against 
them.  Send  to  friends  in  the  south  to  help  with  more.  Let 
H.  Vane  know  what  I  write.  I  would  not  make  it  public,  lest 
danger  should  accrue  thereby.  You  know  what  use  to  make 
hereof.     Let  me  hear  from  you.     I  rest, 

"  Your  servant, 

"  Oliver  Cromwell. 

"  P.S. — It  is  difficult  for  me  to  send  to  you.  Let  me  hear 
from  you  after  '  you  receive  this.'  " 

But  hope,  we  have  said,  did  by  no  means  desert  the  general  ; 
in  the  army  of  Leslie,  and  among  the  preachers  accompanying 
the  army,  there  was  confidence,  and  the  presumption  generated 
from  confidence  ;  they  expected  soon  to  destroy  the  army  of 
Cromwell,  and  to  scatter  it  over  the  moors  and  over  the  sea, 
perhaps  to  have  the  illustrious  general  in  their  pow-er  ;  they 


CROMWELL   AT    DUNBAR.  153 

expected  to  march  on  without  interruption  to  London  with  the 
king.  "  But,"  says  Cromwell,  in  one  of  his  despatches,  "  in 
what  they  were  thus  lifted  up,  the  Lord  was  above  them.  The 
enemy  lying  in  the  posture  before  mentioned,  having  these 
advantages,  we  lay  very  near  to  him,  being  sensible  of  our  dis- 
advantages, having  some  weakness  of  flesh,  and  yet  consolation 
and  support  from  the  Lord  Himself  to  our  poor  weak  faith, 
wherein,  I  believe,  not  a  few  among  us  shared — that  because  of 
their  numbers,  because  of  their  advantages,  because  of  their 
confidence,  because  of  our  weakness,  because  of  our  strait,  we 
WERE  IN  THE  MOUNT,  and  in  the  mount  the  Lord  would  be 
seen,  and  that  He  would  find  out  a  wa}'  of  deliverance  and  sal- 
vation for  us  ;  and  indeed  we  had  our  consolations  and  our 
hopes." 

What  language  do  you  call  this  ?     Is  it  fanaticism  ?     Is  it 
hypocrisy  ? 

Urged,  it  is  said,  by  the  clergy,  who  were  admitted  far  too 
much  to  their  councils — as  a  warrior  and  a  general,  Leslie 
appears  to  have  made  a  movement  in  the  disposition  of  his 
army  which  was  fatally  Avrong.  He  is  spoken  of  as  a  wise, 
clear-sighted  man,  and  upon  many  previous  occasions  he  had 
shown  himself  to  be  so  ;  and  it  is  possible  that  had  he  seized 
upon  all  the  advantages  of  his  position  he  might  have  been 
master  of  the  field,  but  for  that  fatal  movement  of  the  enemy, 
scarcely  noticed  by  any  eye  but  the  active,  penetrating  glance 
of  Cromwell's.  "  With  wonderful  foresight,''  says  Mr.  Fors- 
ter,  "  that  almost  justified  the  inspiration  attributed  to  him, 
he  anticipated  some  movement  by  which  they  might  now  be 
enabled  to  attempt  the  enemy,  and  secure  the  advantage  of  a 
first  attack  ;  and,  as  he  beheld  it,  he  exclaimed,  in  one  of  those 
strong  bursts  of  enthusiasm  which  ever  and  anon  fell  upon 
him,   '  The  Lord   hath  delivered  them  into  our  hands  !  '  " 

Yes,  with  a  vigor  only  equalled  by  Shakespeare's  descrip- 
tions of  night  on  the  fields  of  Agincourt  and  Bosworth,  Carlyle 
has  sketched  for  us  the  disposition  of  those  defiant  hosts  on 
this  night  of  the  2d  of  September,  a  wild,  wet  night:    "  The 


154  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

harvest  moon  wades  deep  among  clouds  of  sleet  and  hail. 
Whoever  has  a  heart  for  prayer,  let  him  pray  now,  for  the 
wrestle  of  death  is  at  hand.  Pray,  and  withal,  keep  his  powder 
dry  !  and  be  ready  for  extremities,  and  quit  himself  like  a 
man.  We  English  have  some  tact,  the  Scots  have  none.  The 
hoarse  sea  moans  hodeful,  swinging  low  and  heavy  against 
those  Whinstone  cliffs  ;  the  sea  and  the  tempests  are  abroad, 
all  else  asleep  but  we — and  there  is  One  that  rides  on  the  wings 
of  the  wind." 

The  orders  of  the  Scots  were  to  extinguish  their  matches,  to 
cower  under  the  shocks  of  corn,  and  seek  some  imperfect 
shelter  and  sleep  ;  to-morrow  night,  for  most  of  them,  the 
sleep  will  be  perfect  enough,  whatever  the  shelter  may  be. 
The  order  to  the  English  was,  to  stand  to  their  arms,  or  to  lie 
within  reach  of  them  all  night.  Some  waking  soldiers  in  the 
English  army  were  holding  prayer-meetings  too.  By  moon- 
light, as  the  gray  heavy  morning  broke  over  St.  Abb's  Head 
its  first  faint  streak,  the  first  peal  of  the  trumpets  ran  along  the 
Scottish  host.  But  how  unprepared  were  they  then  for  the 
loud  reply  of  the  English  host,  and  for  the  thunder  of  their 
cannons  upon  their  lines. 

Terrible  was  the  awakening  of  the  Scottish  soldiers  ;  and 
their  matches  all  out  :  the  battle-cry  rushed  along  the  lines — ■ 
"  The  Covenant  !  The  Covenant  !"  but  it  soon  became  more 
and  more  feeble,  while  yet  high  and  strong,  amid  the  war  of 
the  trumpets  and  the  musketry,  arose  the  watchword  of  Crom- 
well :  "The  Lord  of  Hosts 'l  The  Lord  of  Hosts!"  The 
battle-cry  of  Luther  was  in  that  hour  the  charging  word  of  the 
English  Puritans. 

Terrible  !  but  short  as  terrible  !  Cromwell  had  seized  the 
moment  and  the  place.  The  hour  and  the  man  met  there  ;  in 
overthrowing  the  one  liank  of  the  enemy's  line,  he  made  them 
the  authors  of  their  own  defeat.  A  thick  fog,  too,  had  embar- 
rassed their  movements  ;  their  very  numbers  became  a  source 
of  confusion.  But  now  over  St.  Abb's  Head  the  sun  suddenly 
appeared,  crimsoning  the  sea,  scattering  the  fogs  away.     The 


OROMWEtL   AT   DUNBAR.  165 

Scottish  army  were  seen  flying  in  all  directions — flying,  and  so 
brief  a  fight  !  "  They  run  !"  said  Cromwell  ;  "  I  protest  they 
ran!"  and  catching  inspiration,  doubtless,  from  the  bright 
shining  of  the  daybeam,  "  Inspired,"  says  Mr.  Forster,  "  by 
the  thought  of  a  triumph  so  mighty  and  resistless,  his  voice 
was  again  heard,  '  Now  let  God  arise,  and  let  His  enemies 
BE  scattered  !  '  " 

It  was  a  wonderful  victory  ;  wonderful  even  among  wonder- 
ful triumphs  !  To  hear  the  shout  sent  up  by  the  united  Eng- 
lish army  ;  to  see  the  general  make  a  halt,  and  sing  the  one 
hundred  and  seventeenth  Psalm  upon  the  field.  Wonderful 
that  that  immense  army  should  thus  be  scattered — 10,000  pris- 
oners taken,  about  3000  slain,  200  colors,  15,000  stand  of 
arms,  and  all  the  artillery  ! — and  that  Cromwell  should  not 
have  lost  of  his  army  twenty  men  ! 

It  is  very  beautiful  to  notice  the  humanity  of  Cromwell. 
He  had  been  indisposed  to  fight  these  men,  for  their  faith  was 
very  near  to  his  own.  They  had  denounced  his  party  and  his 
designs-,  as  "  sectaries,"  *'  malignants, "  and  yet  had  elevated 
the  Prince  of  Malignants  to  a  place  of  honor  and  authority 
over  them  and  had  sought  to  crusli  out  all  religious  liberty  by 
imposing  their  ecclesiastical  polity  upon  England.  This  Oliver 
had  attempted  to  resist  by  peaceable  means,  as  best  he  could, 
lie  wrote  (as  his  letters  and  the  public  documents  bear  testi- 
mony) in  the  spirit  of  a  Christian,  to  the  men  whom  he  looked 
upon  as  Christian  brethren.  "  I  do  beseech  you  in  the  bowels 
of  Christ,"  he  writes,  "  do  believe  that  you  may  be  mis- 
taken !"  They  persisted,  we  know,  so  they  had  to  abide  the 
consequences  of,  assuredly,  a  piece  of  illimitable  folly  ;  and 
there  was  one  Christian  and  Puritan  army  opposed  to  another. 
The  sight  was  painful  to  Oliver.  It  is  evident  he  would  have 
avoided  the  battle-field,  but  it  could  not  be  avoided.  He  was 
standing  there  for  the  invaded  liberties  of  England  ;  and,  how- 
ever hostile  to  war  the  man  was,  the  men  who  would  build  up 
the  throne  of  Charles  Stuart  must  understand  that  it  was  only 
with  their  own  they  had  a  right  to  meddle. 


156  OLlVEia  -CKOMWELL. 

Hence  he  writes  to  General  Leslie  : 

"  From  the  Camp  at  Pentland  Hills, 
14tli  August,  1650. 

*'  Sir, — I  received  yours  of  the  13th  instant,  with  the  paper 
you  mentioned  therein  enclosed,  which  I  caused  to  be  read  in 
the  presence  of  so  many  officers  as  could  well  be  gotten 
together,  to  which  your  trumpet  can  witness.  We  return  you 
this  answer  ;  by  which  I  hope,  in  the  Lord,  it  will  appear  that 
we  continue  the  same  we  have  professed  ourselves  to  the  honest 
people  in  Scotland  ;  wishing  to  them  as  to  our  own  souls  ;  it 
being  no  part  of  our  business  to  hinder  any  of  them  from  wor- 
shipping God  in  that  way  they  are  satisfied  in  their  consciences 
by  the  Word  of  God  they  ought,  though  different  from  us. 

"  But  that  under  the  pretence  of  the  Covenant,  mistaken, 
and  wrested  from  the  most  native  intent  and  equity  thereof,  a 
king  should  be  taken  in  by  you  to  be  imposed  upon  us  ;  and 
this  be  called  '  the  cau^sc  of  God  and  the  kingdom  ;  '  and  this 
done  upon  '  the  satisfaction  of  God's  people  in  both  nations,' 
as  is  alleged  —  together  with  a  disowning  of  malignants  ; 
although  he  [Charles  Stuart]  who  is  the  head  of  them,  in 
which  all  their  hope  and  comfort  lies,  be  received  ;  who,  at 
this  very  instant,  hath  a  popish  army  fighting  for  and  under 
him  in  L-eland  ;  hath  Prince  Rupert,  a  man  who  hath  had  his 
hand  deep  in  the  blood  of  many  innocent  men  in  England, 
now  in  the  head  of  our  ships,  stolen  from  us  on  a  malignant 
account  ;  hath  the  French  and  L-ish  ships  daily  making  depre- 
dations on  our  coast  ;  and  strong  combinations  by  the  malig- 
nants in  England,  to  raise  armies  in  our  bowels,  by  virtue  of 
his  commissions,  who  hath  of  late  issued  out  very  many  for 
that  purpose  ; — how  the  godly  interest  you  pretend  you  have 
received  him  upon,  and  the  malignant  interests  in  their  ends 
and  consequences  all  centering  in  this  man,  can  be  secured,  we 
cannot  discern. 

"  And  how  we  should  believe,  that  while  known  and  notori- 
ous malignants  arc  fightii.g  and  plotting  against  us  on  the  one 


CROMWELL   AT   DUNBAR.  15*^ 

hand,  and  yon  declaring  for  him  on  the  other,  it  should  not  be 
an  '  espousing  of  a  malignant  party's  quarrel  or  interest  ;  '  but 
be  a  mere  '  fighting  upon  former  grounds  and  principles,  and 
in  the  defence  of  the  cause  of  God  and  the  kingdoms,'  as  hath 
been  these  twelve  years  last  past  ;  as  yon  say  ;  how  this  should 
be  for  the  security  and  satisfaction  of  God's  people  in  both 
nations,  or  how  the  opposing  of  this  should  render  us  enemies 
to  the  godly  with  you,  we  cannot  well  understand." 

These  citations,  and  others  which  might  be  given,  illustrate 
the  pacific  and  upright  dispositions,  both  in  the  mind  of  the 
general  and  the  party  he  represented.  And  upon  the  field  of 
battle,  after  Dunbar  fight  was  over,  his  heart  moved  with  pity 
to  the  helpless  and  hapless  crowds  crushed  down  in  the  death 
struggle,  he  issued  the  following 

"  Proclamation-. 

"  Forasmuch,  as  I  understand  there  are  several  soldiers  of 
the  enemy's  army  yet  abiding  in  the  field,  who  by  reason  of 
their  wounds  could  not  march  from  thence  : 

"  These  are  therefore  to  give  notice  to  the  inhabitants  of  this 
nation,  That  they  may  have,  and  hereby  have,  free  liberty  to 
repair  to  the  fields  aforesaid  :  and,  with  their  carts,  or  in  any 
other  peaceable  way,  to  carry  away  the  said  soldiers  to  such 
places  as  they  shall  think  fit  : — provided  they  meddle  not  with, 
or  take  away,  any  of  the  arms  there.  And  all  officers  and 
soldiers  are  to  take  notice  that  the  same  is  permitted. 

"  Given  under  my  hand,  at  Dunbar,  4th  September,  1650. 

"  Oliver  Cromwell." 

The  neighboring  peasantry  came  with  eight  wagons,  and 
these  mournful  funeral  trains  retired  in  peace  with  their 
wretched  burdens. 

It  is  also  very  beautiful  to  turn  from  the  general  to  the  hus- 
band, and  to  find  on  the  morrow  after  the  battle,  while  yet  on 
the  field,  so  tender  a  line  as  the  following — so  unaffected,  no 


lo8  OLIVER    CROMTVELL. 

boasting,  scarce  an  allusion  to  the  diflficulty  or  the  deliverance, 
but  a  simple  gleam  of  afEection  playing  forth  from  the  heart  of 
the  strong  man. 

'■^For  my  beloved  wife,  Elizabeth   Cromwell,  at  the   Cockpit:* 

These. 

"  Dunbar,  4th  September,  1650. 

"  Mv  Dearest,—!  have  not  leisure  to  write  much.  But  I 
could  chide  thee  that  in  many  of  thy  letters  thou  writest  to 
me,  that  I  should  not  be  unmindful  of  thee  and  thy  little  ones. 
Truly,  if  I  love  thee  not  too  well,  I  think  I  err  not  on  the 
other  hand  mach.  Thou  art  dearer  to  me  than  any  other  creat- 
ure :  let  that  suffice. 

"  The  Lord  hath  showed  us  an  exceeding  mercy  ;  who  can 
tell  how  it  is  !  My  weak  faith  has  been  upheld.  I  have  been 
in  my  inward  man  marvellously  supported,  though,  I  assure 
thee,  I  grow  an  old  man,  and  feel  infirmities  of  age  marvel- 
lously creeping  on  me.  Would  my  corruptions  did  as  fast 
decrease  !  Pray  on  my  behalf  in  the  latter  respect.  The  par- 
ticulars of  our  late  success  Harry  Vane  or  Gilbert  Pickering 
will  impart  to  thee.     My  love  to  all  dear  friends.     I  rest  thine, 

"  Oliver  Cromwell." 

The  letters  on  that  4th  of  September  are  various  pious  words 
hastily  penned.  Here  are  some  of  his  words  to  Ireton  in 
Ireland  : 

"  I  remember  you  at  the  throne  of  grace.  I  heard  of  the 
Lord's  i^ood  hand  with  vou  in  reducing  Waterford,  Duncannon, 
and  Carlow  :  His  name  be  praised. 

"  AVe  have  been  engaged  upon  a  service  fullest  of  trial  ever 
poor  creatures  were  upon.  AVe  made  great  professions  of  love, 
knowino"  we  were  to  deal  with  many  who  were  godlv,  and  who 

*  The  Cockpit  was  then  and  long  afterward  a  sumptuous  royal 
lodging  in  Whitehall :  Henry  VIII. 's  place  of  cock-fighting.  Crom- 
well's family  removed  thither,  by  vote  of  the  Commons,  during  the 
Irish  campaign.     The  present  Privy  Council  office  is  built  on  its  site. 


CKOMWELL  AT   DUNBAR.  159 

pretended  to  be  stumbled  at  our  invasion.     We  were  rejected 
a^ain  and  again." 

By  letters  like  these  we  are  admitted  into  the  most  inner 
sanctuary  of  Cromwell's  life  ;  and  nowhere  do  we  more  clearly 
see  its  beauty.  Beauty  !  To  many  this  term  will  seem 
strange,  applied  to  this  man  ;  but  does  not  beauty  ever  dwell 
with  strength  ? — and  tenderness,  is  it  not  the  companion  of 
power  ?  The  weak  and  luxurious  Charles  could  not  write  such 
letters.  It  is  very  charming  to  find  such  fresh  and  beautiful 
feelings  playing  round  and  through  the  spirit  of  a  man  who 
was  faded  and  Avorn  down  with  the  burden  of  overwhelming 
power,  who  had  ascended  to  the  very  highest  height  of  earthly 
authority.  Here  is  another  letter  to  his  wife,  bearing  nearly 
the  same  date  : 

"  My  Dearest, — I  praise  the  Lord  that  I  have  increased  in 
strength  in  my  outward  man  ;  but  that  will  not  satisfy  me, 
except  I  get  a  heart  to  love  and  serve  my  heavenly  Father 
better,  and  get  more  of  the  light  of  Ilis  countenance,  which  is 
better  than  life,  and  more  power  over  my  corruptions.  In 
these  hopes  I  wait,  and  am  not  without  expectation  of  a 
gracious  return.  Pray  for  me  ;  truly  I  do  daily  for  thee  and 
the  dear  family  ;  and  God  Almighty  bless  you  all  with  His 
spiritual  blessings. 

"  Mind  poor  Betty  of  the  Lord's  great  mercy.  Oh,  I  desire 
her  not  only  to  seek  the  Lord  in  her  necessity,  but  in  deed  and 
in  truth  to  turn  to  the  Lord,  and  to  keep  close  to  Him,  and  to 
take  heed  of  a  departing  heart,  and  of  being  cozened  with 
worldly  vanities,  and  worldly  company,  which  I  doubt  she  is 
too  subject  to.  I  earnestly  and  frequently  pray  for  her,  and  for 
him.  Truly  they  are  dear  to  me,  very  dear  ;  and  I  am  in  fear 
lest  Satan  should  deceive  them,  knowing  how  weak  our  hearts 
are,  and  how  subtle  tiie  adversary  is,  and  what  way  the  deceit- 
fulness  of  our  hearts  and  the  vain  world  make  for  his  tempta- 
tions. The  Lord  give  them  truth  of  heart  to  Him.  Let  them 
take  Him  m  truth,  and  they  shall  find  Him. 


160  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

"  My  love  to  the  dear  little  ones  ;  I  pray  for  them.  I  thank 
them  for  their  letters  ;  let  me  have  them  often. 

"  Beware  of  my  Lord  Herbert's  resort  to  your  house.  If 
he  do  so,  it  may  occasion  scandal,  as  if  I  were  bargaining  with 
him.  Indeed,  be  wise  ;  you  know  my  meaning.  Mind  Sir 
Harry  Yane  of  the  business  of  my  estate  ;  Mr.  Floyd  knows 
my  mind  in  that  matter. 

"  If  Dick  Cromwell  and  his  wife  be  with  you,  my  dear  love 
to  them.  I  pray  for  them.  They  shall,  God  willing,  hear 
from  me.  I  love  them  very  dearly.  Truly  I  am  not  able  as 
yet  to  write  nuich  ;  I  am  w'eary,  and  rest  thine, 

"  Oliver  Cromwell." 

We  have  also  another  short  epistle  sent  to  the  same  lady 
next  month. 

"  My  Dearest, — I  could  not  satisfy  myself  to  omit  this 
post,  although  I  have  not  much  to  write  ;  yet,  indeed,  I  love 
to  write  to  my  dear,  who  is  very  much  in  my  heart.  It  joys 
me  to  hear  thy  soul  prospereth.  The  Lord  increase  His  favors 
to  thee  more  and  more.  The  greatest  good  thy  soul  can  wish 
is,  that  the  Lord  lift  upon  thee  the  light  of  His  countenance, 
which  is  better  than  life.  The  Lord  bless  all  thy  good  counsel 
and  example  to  all  those  about  thee,  and  hear  thy  prayers,  and 
accept  thee  always. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  thy  son  and  daughter  are  with  thee.     I 

hope  thou  wilt  have  some  good  opportunity  of  good  advice  to 

him.     Present  my   duty   to  my   mother,   my   love   to   all  the 

family.     Still  pray  for  thine, 

"  Oliver  Cromwell." 

Indeed,  at  this  point  in  Cromwell's  history,  we  might  pause 
lono-,  and  notice  manv  touches — traces  of  his  love  for  the 
various  members  of  his  family.  We  might  run  back  through 
the  several  past  years  of  his  life,  and  notice  the  combination  of 
affection,  piety,  and  purity  developed  in  his  correspondence. 
He  never  writes  to  his  daughters  without  guiding  them  to  the 
best  life.     He  never  writes  to  his  son  without  an  effoit  to  lead 


CROMWELL   AT    DUNBAR.  161 

him  to  the  best  thoughts  and  noblest  actions,  and  this  with  no 
spirit  of  acrimonj'  or  sternness,  but  with  real  cheerfulness. 
This  is  very  noticeable,  among  other  things,  the  real  kindliness 
of  the  man,  the  homeliness  of  his  feelings,  the  pla}^  of  sunny 
good-humor  through  his  thoughts,  and  through  his  pen  also. 
Here  is  a  letter  which  it  may  be  interesting  to  read  : 

^'■For  my  beloved  daughter,  Bridget   Ireton,   at    Cornbury,  the 
GeneraU s  Quarters  :   These. 

"  London,  25th  October,  1646. 

"  Dear  Daughter, — I  write  not  to  thy  husband  ;  partly  to 
avoid  trouble,  for  one  line  of  mine  begets  many  of  his,  which 
I  doubt  makes  him  sit  up  too  late  ;  partly  because  I  am  myself 
indisposed  [i.e.,  not  in  the  mood]  at  this  time,  having  some 
other  considerations. 

"  Your  friends  at  Ely  are  well  ;  your  sister  Claypole  is,  I 
trust  in  mercy,  exercised  with  some  perplexed  thoughts.  She 
sees  her  own  vanity  and  carnal  mind — bewailing  it.  She  seeks 
after  (as  I  hope  also)  what  will  satisfy.  And  thus  to  be  a  seeker 
is  to  be  one  of  the  best  sect  next  to  a  finder  ;  and  such  a  one 
shall  every  faithful  humble  seeker  beat  the  end.  Happy  seeker, 
happy  finder  !  Who  ever  tasted  that  the  Lord  is  gracious, 
without  some  sense  of  self,  vanity,  and  badness  ?  AVho  ever 
tasted  that  graciousness  of  His,  and  could  go  less  in  desire 
[i.e.  because  less  desirous^,  less  pressing  after  full  enjoyment  ? 
Dear  heart,  press  on  ;  let  not  thy  husband,  let  not  anything 
cool  thy  affections  after  Christ.  I  hope  he  [thy  husband]  will 
be  an  occasion  to  inflame  them.  That  which  is  best  worthy  of 
love  in  thy  husband  is  that  of  the  image  of  Christ  he  bears. 
Look  on  that,  and  love  it  best,  and  all  the  rest  for  that.  I 
pray  for  thee  and  him  ;  do  so  for  me. 

"  Mv  service  and  dear  affections  to  the  General  and  Gen- 

eraless.      I  hear  she  is  very  kind  to  thee  ;  it  adds  to  all  other 

obligations.     I  am, 

"Thy  dear  father, 

"  Oliver  Cromwkll." 

t- 
I 


162  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

"  Delicacy  of  sentiment,"  says  Dr.  D'Aubigne,  "  the 
domestic  xirtues,  and  paternal  love,  are  among  the  features  by 
whicb  Cromwell  is  best  characterized."  Here  again  is  a  letter 
to  one  of  his  daughters,  when  the  writer  was  on  board  the 
John,  on  his  expedition  to  Ireland  : 

"  My  Dear  Daughter, — Your  letter  was  very  welcome  to 
me.  I  like  to  see  anything  from  your  hand  ;  because,  indeed,  I 
stick  not  to  say  I  do  entirely  love  you.  And,  therefore,  Ihope  a 
word  of  advice  will  not  be  unwelcome  nor  unacceptable  to  thee. 

"  I  desire  you  both  to  make  it,  above  all  things,  your  busi- 
ness to  seek  the  Lord  ;  to  be  frequently  calling  upon  Him  that 
He  would  manifest  Himself  to  you  in  His  Son  ;  and  be  listen- 
ing what  returns  He  makes  to  you,  for  He  will  be  speaking  in 
your  ear  and  your  heart  if  you  attend  thereunto.  I  desire  you 
to  provoke  your  husband  thereunto.  As  for  the  pleasure  of 
this  life,  and  outward  business,  let  that  be  upon  the  bye.  Be 
above  all  these  things  by  faith  in  Christ,  and  then  you  shall 
have  the  true  use  and  comfort  of  them,  and  not  otherwise.  I 
have  much  satisfaction  in  hope  your  spirit  is  this  way  set  ;  and 
I  desire  you  may  grow  in  grace  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  and  that  I  may  hear  thereof. 
The  Lord  is  very  near,  which  we  see  by  His  wonderful  works  ; 
and,  therefore,  He  looks  that  we  of  this  generation  draw  near 
to  Him.  This  late  great  mercy  of  Ireland  is  a  great  manifesta- 
tion thereof  ;  your  husband  will  acquaint  you  Avith  it.  We 
should  be  much  stirred  up  in  our  spirits  to  thankfulness.  We 
much  need  the  spirit  of  Christ  to  enable  us  to  praise  God  for 
so  admirable  a  mercy. 

"  The  Lord  bless  thee,  my  dear  daughter  ! 

"  I  rest,  thy  loving  father, 

"  Oliver  Cromwell." 

These,  then,  are  the  letters  of  this  man  (in  the  which  we 
have  been  drawn  away  by  the  letter  to  his  wife  after  Dunbar, 
and  have  a  little  confused  dates),  and  he  has  been  regarded  as 
ft  kind  of  ogre  by  all  historians  !     These  are  the  letters  of  the 


CKOMWELL   AT   DUNBAR.  163 

warrior  ;  do  tliey  not  reveal  tlie  Christian  ?  Do  they  not 
show  a  character  strong  in  its  simplicity,  as  we  have  beheld  it 
before — strong  in  its  mailed  armor  of  proof  and  in  its  sagacity  ? 
Cromwell  has  been  judged  from  a  wrong  centre.  Could  a  kid- 
skinned  time-server  like  Clarendon  understand  him  ?  Could  a 
sceptic  like  Hume  understand  him  ?  Could  a  prejudiced 
partisan  like  Forster  understand  him  ?  Let  the  reader,  at  this 
point  of  Cromwell's  history,  look  at  the  great  Maccabseus  of 
the  Commonwealth,  and  let  him  glance  at  the  circumstances  of 
the  history  too,  and  the  times.  What  would  have  been  the 
state  of  the  land  had  there  been  no  Cromwell,  or  had  Cromwell 
been  killed  on  the  field  of  Dunbar  or  Worcester  ? — for  with  the 
battle  of  Worcester,  which  we  are  presently  to  recite,  terminat- 
ed the  Second  Civil  War  ?  Charles  II.  fled  in  hopeless  deso- 
lation to  France,  to  exist  as  the  pensioned  pauper  of  the  French 
king.  The  royal  power  was  now  fairly  beaten  down  in  Eng- 
land. Let  the  malignant  sneerer,  who  has  no  Avords  but  com- 
monplace abuse  to  bestow  upon  the  great  English  hero, 
attempt  to  realize  what  the  land  would  have  been,  must  have 
been,  without  him,  rent  in  factions,  almost  all  equally  strong. 
An  army  then  without  a  leader,  dreamy  speculators  determined 
to  impose  their  theories  upon  the  kingdom,  and  so  inflict  upon 
the  land  the  miseries  of  anarchy,  as  in  the  French  Revolution  ; 
or  the  horrors  of  persecution,  as  in  Boston  and  the  New  Eng- 
land States.  Cromwell  was  the  power  raised  up  by  Providence 
to  save  England  from  this.  Never  in  the  history  of  the  world 
had  a  man  a  more  diflScult  task  to  perform  ;  but  he  performed 
it,  because  he  brought  to  the  task,  in  addition  to  the  most 
remarkable  combination  of  mental  requisites  ever  assembled 
together  in  one  man — forming  a  sort  of  mythic  personage,  and 
reminding  us  of  Theseus  or  Hercules — in  addition  to  these,  we 
say,  he  brought  piety  of  the  sublimest  order,  and  singleness  of 
purpose  lofty  as  that  of  a  Hebrew  prophet,  but  conjoined  to  a 
largeness  of  toleration  for  all  relicfious  differences,  for  which 
we  know  not  where  to  find  a  parallel. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

CROMWELL    AT    "WORCESTER,    AND    THE    ROMANCE    OF    BOSCOBEL. 

Whoever  advised  Cliarles,  the  youno-  king  of  Scots,  after 
the  battle  of  Dunbar  and  the  entire  conquest  of  the  Presby- 
terian cause  by  Cromwell,  to  invade  England,  had  but  little 
ability  to  read  in  the  book  of  passing  events.  There  was  surely 
little  to  encourage  such  an  attempt  in  the  history  of  what  had 
recently  been  achieved,  in  the  character  of  Ciomwell,  or  in 
the  determination  of  the  English  people  ;  probably  the  most 
encouraging  circumstance  was,  that  immediately  after  the  battle 
of  Dunbar,  Cromwell  was  struck  down  by  a  serious  and  pro- 
tracted illness.  The  young  king  came  across  the  Border, 
reached  Lancashire,  in  spite  of  very  sorry  success,  apparently 
in  hopeful' and  buoyant  spirits.  He  had  passed  by  Kendal  and 
Preston  to  Warrington,  there  he  received  a  check  from  Harri- 
son and  Lambert  ;  he  forced  on  his  way,  called  on  Shrewsbury, 
in  passing,  to  surrender,  but  without  effect.  He  then  pushed 
on  to  Worcester.  The  city  opened  its  gates  and  received  the 
king  and  his  army  with  every  demonstration  of  affection,  they 
provided  for  their  many  and  grievous  wants,  and  the  mayor 
and  aldermen,  with  all  the  solemnity  and  circumstance  they 
could  command,  attended  the  Herald  who  proclaimed  Charles 
king  of  England,  Scotland,  France,  and  Ireland.  Vain  and 
empty  boastfulness  !  But  there  was  a  stir  of  terror  in  Eng- 
land ;  London  especially  gave  way  to  fearful  alarms.  A  meas- 
ure of  success,  and  Charles  and  the  army,  which  had  pushed 
on  from  Scotland  so  far  into  one  of  the  chief  midland  cities  of 
England,  would  speedily  be  before  the  metropolis  ;  and  Crom- 
well and  his  strong  men  were  away.  Even  lion-hearted  Brad- 
shaw  was  in  fear.  How  was  it  that  Cromwell  had  permitted 
this  strange  stride  to  be  taken  by  the  young  man  and  his 
foolish  advisers  ?     The  fidelity  of  Cromwell  was  suspected  ;  a 


CROMWELL   AT    WORCESTER.  165 

universal  panic  of  fear  was  spreading  on  every  hand.  It  is 
quite  noticeable  how,  as  in  this  instance,  writers  like  Mrs. 
Hutchinson,  who  never  miss  their  opportunity  of  uttering  their 
bitterness  or  their  suspicions  concerning  Cromwell,  are  as  full 
of  alarm  when  he  is  absent  from  the  spot  which  his  genius 
alone  could  save.  In  this  case  there  was  little  need  for  their 
fear  ;  even  while  they  were  in  their  panic  of  wonder  Cromwell 
had  already  saved  them.  He  came  on  with  a  tremendous 
army,  nearly  three  times  as  large  as  that  which  had  conquered 
at  Dunbar. 

With  nearly  30,000  men,  on  the  28th  of  August,  1651,  he 
reached  Worcester,  and  had  all  his  regiments  in  position  within 
two  miles  of  the  city.  As  to  the  condition  of  the  royal  army, 
hope  and  confidence  appear  to  have  made  them  so  presumptu- 
ous that  their  chief  officers  could  not  abstain  from  some  internal 
dissensions.  "  There  was  no  good  understanding,"  says  Clar- 
endon, "  between  the  officers  of  the  army."  The  army  was 
mostly  composed  of  Scots  ;  and  yet,  by  Clarendon's  testimony, 
there  was  a  proposal  to  supersede  old  David  Leslie  in  the  com- 
mand, and  Buckingham,  by  the  same  authority,  appears  to 
have  been  desirous  that  the  honor  of  the  chief  command  should 
be  conferred  upon  himself,  urging  that  as  it  was  unreasonable, 
while  they  were  in  Scotland,  to  put  any  other  in  command  over 
Leslie,  so  now  it  was  imreasonable,  while  they  were  in  Eng- 
land, and  hoped  to  increase  the  army  by  the  access  of  the 
English,  upon  whom  their  principal  dependence  would  be,  to 
expect  they  would  be  willing  to  serve  imdcr  Leslie  ;  and  it 
would  not  consist  with  the  honor  of  any  peer  of  England  to 
receive  his  orders.  Charles  was  surprised,  and  urged  against 
the  duke  his  youth  ;  the  duke,  with  sufficient  self-confidence, 
urged  again,  that  Henry  IV.  of  France  had  won  a  great  battle 
when  he  was  younger.  The  king,  however,  refused  to  listen 
to  the  counsels  of  his  ill-adviser,  and  the  duke  did  not  recovei: 
from  his  ill  humor  while  the  army  remained  in  Worcester. 
The  army  itself,  which  in  truth  must  have  been  a  strange  array 
of  ragged  regiments,  felt  comfortable  ;  they  liked  their  quar- 


,166  OLIVER- CKOMWELL. 

ters,  and  did  not  desire  to  quit  them  till  they  should  be 
thoroughly  refreshed.  They  were  not  desirous  of  marching 
farther  on  ;  Worcester  was  a  good  post,  standing  in  a  fertile 
region  in  the  very  heart  of  the  kingdom  ;  and  if  Cromwell 
must  be  met,  it  appears  to  have  been  generally  thought  it 
would  be  better  to  meet  him  there.  So  Charles  abandoned  his 
first  intention  to  proceed  on  to  London,  and  every  effort  was 
made  to  strengthen  the  position  by  repairing  the  breaches  of 
the  walls,  and  throwing  up  forts  ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  resist 
the  impression  that  there  was  a  generally  diffused  faith  that,  in 
this  place  the  tide  of  conflict  and  conquest  was  to  turn,  and 
now  "  the  king  would  enjoy  his  own  again." 

Even  yet  they  did  not  know  the  man  who  was  marching 
upon  them,  they  did  not  understand  as  yet  the  shrewdness  of 
that  eye,  and  the  resources  of  that  brain.  The  battle  of  Wor- 
cester, it  will  be  seen  at  once,  differs  from  any  of  the  other 
great  battles  which  Cromwell  fought,  and  where  his  genius 
rose  victorious.  Marston  and  Naseby,  and  even  Dunbar,  were 
on  the  open  plain  ;  but  Worcester  was  a  city  in  possession, 
and  the  Royalists  no  doubt  expected,  from  the  security  of  their 
position,  a  protracted  siege.  Worcester  stands,  as  the  reader 
knows,  on  the  rieht  bank  of  the  Severn,  and  something  had 
been  done  by  the  Royalists  to  increase  its  means  of  resistance. 
Cromwell,  of  course,  found  all  the  bridges  broken  down  and 
destroyed  ;  not  a  boat  or  punt  was  to  be  seen,  while,  appar- 
ently securely  fortified,  there  on  the  opposite  side  were  seen 
the  heights  of  the  beautiful  old  city,  not  less  strong  than  beau- 
tiful. Even  Clarendon  seems  scarcely  able  to  repress  his  feel- 
ings of  admiration,  as  he  says,  "  Cromwell,  without  troubling 
himself  with  the  formality  of  a  siege,  marched  directly  on  as 
to  a  prey,  and  possessed  himself  at  once  of  the  hill  and  all  the 
other  places  of  advantage  with  very  little  opposition."  How- 
did  he  perform  this  feat  ?  It  may  be  supposed  he  knew  what 
he  would  do  before  he  arrived  on  the  scene  of  action.  While 
the  Royalists  felt  their  security  from  the  broad  river  of  the 
Severn,  and  the  narrower  river  of  the  little  Teme,  the  great 


CROMWELL  AT   WORCESTEH.  167 

general  had  no  sooner  arrived  than  he  proceeded  at  once  to 
throw  his  army  astride  across  the  two  rivers  by  means  of  pon- 
toons ;  then  he  laid  a  bridge  across  the  Teme  close  to  its  junc- 
tion with  the  Severn.  He  used  no  delay,  none  of  the  circum- 
spection which  it  was  supposed  he  would  so  naturally  and 
necessarily  employ.  He  soon  forced  his  way  through  the 
surprised  and  weak  defenders  against  the  ingress,  as  the  troops 
landed  by  the  bridges  ;  and  in  fact,  the  battle  of  Worcester 
may  be  said  to  have  been  fought  in  Worcester  streets.  Crom- 
well himself  soon  seized  upon  the  guns  of  what  was  called  the 
royal  fort,  and  played  them  upon  the  fugitives.  The  battle 
raged  all  round,  at  every  point,  although  it  appears  to  have 
been  decided  under  the  walls  of  the  town.  There  Cromwell, 
with  his  own  Ironsides  around  him,  held  the  conflict  for  three 
hours,  "  as  stiff  a  contest,"  he  wrote  afterward,  "  for  many 
hours,  including  both  sides  of  the  river,  as  he  had  ever  seen." 
Some  attempts  have  been  made  to  show  that  Charles  acquitted 
himself  with  extraordinary  bravery  on  this  occasion  ;  the  effort 
is  not  successful,  the  description  of  the  king's  heroism  at  the 
battle  of  Worcester  has  no  clear  foundation.  It  is  more  prob- 
able that  he  looked  down  upon  the  rout  of  battle  from  the 
Cathedral  tower  ;  and  at  last,  seeing  all  hope  gone  and  all 
courage  lost,  he  cried  out,  "  I  had  rather  that  you  would  shoot 
me  than  keep  me  alive  to  see  the  sad  consequences  of  this  fatal 
day."  The  army  was  cut  to  pieces,  most  of  the  great  generals 
and  leaders  were  taken  prisoners,  the  streets  were  filled  with 
the  bodies  of  horses  and  men.  By  six  in  the  evening  Charles 
had  fled  through  St.  Martin's  gate.  Just  outside  the  town  he 
tried  to  rally  his  men  ;  but  it  was  to  no  purpose,  Worcester  lay 
behind  him,  its  houses  pillaged,  its  citizens  slain  for  his  sake, 
and  he  forced  to  fly  for  his  life.  And  who  could  have 
expected  any  other  ending  ?  A  boy  like  Charles,  with  such  an 
army,  a  handful  of  men  badly  supplied  with  ammunition,  the 
leaders  of  the  army  quarrelling  among  themselves  ;  and  these 
before  a  veteran  like  Cromwell,  with  all  England  at  his  back. 
The  bravery  and  devotedness  of  the  men  who  followed  Charles 


168  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

may  command  respect,  and  sbed  some  lustre  over  what  must  be 
regarded  as  a  worthless  cause,  but  that  is  all.  So  Charles  fled 
through  the  streets  in  piteous  despair  on  the  evening  of  that 
third  of  September,  Cromwell's  fortunate  day,  the  anniversary 
of  the  battle  of  Dunbar.  At  ten  o'clock  at  night  he  sat  down, 
as  he  says,  weary  and  scarcely  able  to  write  ;  yet  he  wrote  to 
the  Parliament  of  England  :  "  The  dimensions  of  this  mercy 
are  above  my  thoughts,  it  is  for  aught  I  know  a  crowning 
mercy."  They  still  remember  that  day  in  Worcester,  and  still 
point  out  many  of  the  places  connected  with  the  story  of  the 
battle  :  and  in  Perry  Wood,  where  Cromwell  first  took  up  his 
position,  there  is  a  tree,  which  the  peasant  shows  to  those  who 
desire  to  see  it,  where  the  devil,  Cromwell's  intimate  friend, 
appeared  to  him  and  gave  him  the  promise  of  victory.  The 
railway  indeed  runs  over  the  ground  where  the  hottest  engage- 
ment took  place  ;  Sidbury  and  St.  Martin's  have  disappeared, 
and  large  lime  trees  grow  on  the  site  of  the  Royal  Fort,  where 
the  Royalist  guns  were  seized  by  Cromwell  and  turned  upon 
the  Royalist  army  ;  but  the  rooms  are  still  shown  where  Charles 
slept,  and  where  the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  who  was  wounded  in 
the  action,  died.  Powick  old  bridge,  which  occupies  a  con- 
spicuous place  in  the  story  of  the  battle,  still  stands  crooked 
and  narrow,  spanning  with  massive  arches  and  abutments  the 
famous  streams  of  the  Teme  and  Laughern.  Perhaps  the  most 
curious  item  memorializing  the  famous  conflict  is  in  the 
corporation  records,  with  reference  to  the  poor  Scotch  soldiers  : 
"  Paid  for  pitch  and  rosin  to  perfume  the  Hall  after  the  Scots, 
two  shillings."  Indeed,  that  fine  old  Hall  needed  perfuming 
and  cleansing,  for  it  was  drenched  with  blood,  but  rather  the 
blood  of  the  English  than  the  Scotch  ;  for  it  was  within  its 
walls  that  the  English  Cavaliers  made  a  last  and  desperate 
resistance,  and  they  were  all  cut  to  pieces  or  made  prisoners. 
This  was  the  last  and  great  decisive  conflict  ;  the  defeat  of 
Worcester  settled  the  Royal  cause,  and  doomed  it,  with  its 
chief  and  his  adherents,  to  banishment,  until  the  strong  victor 
who  had  scattered  the  royal  rabble  at  Worcester,  should  him- 
self be  conquered  by  death. 


CKOMWELL  AT   WOKCESTER.  169 

And  liere,  before  we  pass  on  with  the  stream  of  circumstance 
in  Cromwell's  life,  shall  we  turn  for  a  few  moments  to  the 
singular  episode  of  the  strange  adventures  of  the  Ro3'al  fugitive 
Charles,  after  the  battle  of  Worcester  ?  We  may  well  do  so  if 
we  are  disposed  to  accept  the  words  of  Clarendon,  who  says, 
"  It  is  a  great  pity  that  there  was  never  a  journal  made  of  that 
miraculous  deliverance,  in  which  there  might  be  seen  so  many 
visible  impressions  of  the  immediate  hand  of  God  !"  But  this 
language  is  quite  a  modest  estimate  compared  with  what  is  said 
by  Mistress  Wyndham,  the  wife  or  sister  of  Colonel  Wyndhani, 
who  took  a  considerable  share  in  the  preservation  of  the  king  ; 
this  lady  says,  "It  is  a  story  in  which  the  constellations  of 
Providence  are  so  refulgent,  that  their  light  it  sufficient  to  con- 
fute all  the  atheists  in  the  world,  and  to  enforce  all  persons 
whose  faculties  are  not  pertinaciously  depraved  to  acknowledge 
the  watchful  eye  of  God  from  above,  looking  upon  all  actions 
of  men  here  below,  making  even  the  most  wicked  subservient 
to  His  just  and  glorious  designs.  For  the  Almighty  so  closely 
covered  the  king  with  the  wing  of  His  protection,  and  so 
clouded  the  understandings  of  his  cruel  enemies,  that  the  most 
piercing  eye  of  malice  could  not  see,  nor  the  most  barbarous 
bloody  hand  offer  violence  to,  his  sacred  person,  God  smiting 
his  pursuers  as  once  he  did  the  Sodomites,  with  blindness." 
The  language  of  Mistress  Wyndham  is  certainly  pitched  in  an 
exalted  key,  but  the  story  is  as  certainly  very  remarkable.  A 
story  is  told,  how  many  years  since,  before  the  age  of  railways, 
a  nobleman  and  his  lady,  with  their  infant  child,  travelling  in  a 
wild  neighborhood,  were  overtaken  by  a  snowstorm  and  com- 
pelled to  seek  shelter  in  a  rude  shepherd's  hut  ;  when  the 
nurse,  who  was  in  attendance  upon  her  lord  and  lady,  began 
undressing  the  infant  by  the  side  of  the  warm  fire,  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  hut  gazed  in  awe  and  silence  at  the  process.  As 
the  little  one  was  disrobed  of  its  silken  frock  and  fine  linen, 
and  rich  dress  after  dress  was  taken  away,  still  the  shepherd 
and  his  wife  gazed  with  awe,  until,  when  the  process  -of 
undressing   was  completed,    and  the   naked   baby   was   being 


170  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

washed  and  warmed  by  the  fire,  when  all  the  wrappages  and 
outer  husks  were  peeled  off,  the  shepherd  and  his  wife 
exclaimed,  "  Why,  it's  just  like  one  of  ours  !"  But  it  is  a 
very  difficult  thing  to  understand  that  kings  and  queens  and 
princes  are  just  like  one  of  us  when  their  state  robes  are  off  ; 
and  thus  the  adventures  of  Charles  derive  their  interest  and 
sanctity  from  the  supposed  importance  of  the  person,  and  the 
worship  with  which  he  is  regarded  arises  from  the  sense  of  the 
place  he  fills,  and  his  essential  importance  to  the  future 
schemes  of  Almighty  Providence.  And  still  it  certainly  is  one 
of  the  most  interesting  pieces  of  English  folklore.  It  has  been 
said,  but  we  a  little  doubt  the  truth  of  the  saying,  that  there  is 
no  country  where,  in  so  small  a  space  as  in  England,  so  much 
and  so  many  relics  of  the  past  are  crowded  together  ;  and  it  is 
farther  often  said,  that  of  all  romantic  tales  in  English  history, 
that  of  King  Charles's  flight  is  the  most  so.  Hairbreadth 
escapes,  sufferings,  surprises,  and  disguises  shed  quite  a  ficti- 
tious halo  around  one  who  was,  after  all,  a  very  mean  and 
commonplace  character.  The  adventures  of  Charles,  however, 
are  indeed  full  of  interest,  and  the  volume  of  Boscobel  Tracts 
is  a  charming  story  of  old  halls,  many  of  them  now  gone, 
many  of  them  still  standing,  gray  and  weather-worn,  full  of 
hiding-places,  where  the  prince  found  a  refuge.  The  escape  of 
Charles  is  one  of  those  stories  which  the  English  peasant  has  in 
many  parts  of  England  told  pleasantly  in  his  own  rude  way. 
It  is  a  wonderful  story  of  human  fidelity,  for  though  a  thousand 
pounds  was  set  upon  the  capture  of  Charles,  and  perhaps  more 
than  a  score  of  people  knew  the  route  he  was  faking,  not  one 
of  them  ever  revealed  it,  not  one  broke  faith,  peasant  and  peer 
were  equally  true  ;  cottage  and  hall  were  equally  open  to  the 
royal  fugitive  ;  indeed,  it  is  a  story  which  if  told  of  a  better 
man  might  bring  tears  into  the  eyes.  From  that  fatal  evening, 
when  flying  along  from  Worcester  he  threw  his  blue  ribbon  and 
garter  and  princely  ornaments  away,  when  his  long  black  hair 
was  cropped  off  country  fashion,  when  he  climbed  up  into  the 
Boscobel  oak,  and  amid  its  thick  boughs  could  look  down,  and 


CROMWELL   AT    WORCESTER.  171 

peep,  and  see  the  red  coats  of  his  enemies  passing  beneath 
them,  till 

"  When  all  the  paths  were  dim, 

And  far  below  the  Koundhead  rode 
And  hummed  a  surly  hymn, " 

until,  by  a  strangely  circuitous  route,  he  reached  Brighthelm- 
stone,  or  Brighton,  and  from  thence  embarked  in  Captain  Tat- 
tersal's  little  vessel  from  Shoreham,*  it  is  a  constant  succession 
of  adventures  which  from  that  day  to  this  have  furnished  sub- 
jects for  the  writers  of  fiction.  Lord  Clarendon  devotes  a  good 
many  pages  to  the  story  of  these  adventures  ;  but  he  gives  no 
honor  to  the  humbler  agents  who  secured  the  king's  escape  : 
the  Penderels,  for  instance,  to  whom  the  king  always  expressed 
so  much  gratitude,  they  are  unmentioned  ;  nor  does  the  faith- 
ful Jane  Lane  receive  the  notice  she  deserves  ;  quite  worthy 
she  appears  of  all  the  fame  which  has  waited  upon  Flora  Mac- 
donald,  who  took  a  similar  part  in  rescuing  a  later  member  of 
the  house  of  Stuart  from  similar  dangers.  There  is  a  quiet  and 
unassuming  grace  about  Jane  Lane  which  gives  a  real  charm  to 
her  character.  The  way  was  beset  with  stories  ;  and  it  must 
have  been  an  anxious  time  to  Charles.  But  some  of  his 
retreats,  standing  still,  glow  with  the  lights  of  the  old  romantic 
days  :  the  old  house  at  Trent,  for  instance,  in  whose  secret 
chambers  he  stayed  so  long,  and  from  whence  he  heard  a 
Roundhead  soldier  boasting  that  he  bad  slain  the  king  with  his 

*  In  reference  to  this  a  ballad,  by  the  present   writer,   called  a 
Farewell  to  Brighton  Bells,  sings  : 

*'  Again  the  old  bells  clang'd  and  clash' d,  to  greet  the  merry  day, 
When  scapegrace  Charles  came  back  again,  that  twenty-ninth  of 

May; 
And  in  the  Old  King's  Head  a  group  of  merry  fishers  chat, 
Whilst  pointing  to  the  chair  in  which,  disguised,  the  monarch  sat ! 
And  many  a  tale  that  night  was  told, — the  tankard's  power  pre- 
vail'd,— 
How,  but  for  Brighton's  loyalty,  e'en  Boscobel  had  fail'd  ; 
I  doubt  me  much  that  Brighton  ale  display'd  a  tyrant's  power, 
In  drinking  bold  Dick  Tattersal,  the  hero  of  the  hour  ! ' ' 


172  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

own  hands,  and  from  whence  he  could  see  the  bonfires  the 
people  kindled  in  their  joy,  and  hear  his  own  death  knell  rung 
from  the  old  church  tower.  Sometimes  the  king  was  "  Will 
Jones,"  a  woodman  ;  then  he  was  changed  into  ''  Will  Jack- 
son," a  groom,  clad  in  gray  cloth.  Once  he  had  to  take  Jane 
Lane's  horse  to  a  smithy,  it  had  cast  a  shoe,  and  the  smith 
began  wailing  the  non-capture  of  that  rogue  Charles  Stuart, 
and  the  king  chimed  in,  that  if  that  rogue  could  only  be  taken, 
he  deserved  hanging  mere  than  all  the  rest,  for  bringing  in  the 
Scots.  Once,  close  to  Stratford,  "  Will  Jackson,"  in  pursu- 
ance of  his  disgniise,  was  sent  into  the  kitchen,  where  the  cook- 
maid,  who  was  providing  supper,  desired  him  to  wind  up  the 
jack  ;  he  was  obedient,  but  he  did  not  do  it  in  the  right  way, 
wdiich  led  the  maid  with  some  passion  to  ask,  "  What  country- 
man are  you,  that  you  kuo-w  not  how  to  wind  up  a  jack  ?" 
"  Will  Jackson"  appears  to  have  answered  very  satisfactorily  : 
"  I  am  a  poor  tenant's  son  of  Colonel  Lane,  in  Staffordshire  ; 
we  seldom  have  roast  meat,  and  when  we  have,  we  don't  make 
use  of  a  jack,"  and  so  the  maid's  anger  was  a^ipeased.  That 
old  jack  is  still  hanging  up  beside  the  fireplace,  but  those  who 
have  seen  it  within  the  last  few  years  say  that  it  would  now 
puzzle  a  wiser  man  than  Charles  to  wind  it  up.  Another  story 
tells  how  the  king  was  hard  pressed  by  soldiers  in  pursuit  of 
him,  and  how  they  sought  for  him  all  over  the  house,  and  in 
the  kitchen  too  ;  but  here  the  girl  in  the  kitchen  knew  him, 
for  indeed  he  was  there,  and  as  they  entered  he  looked  with 
trepidation  round  him,  perhaps  giving  up  all  for  lost  now  ;  but 
the  cook  hit  him  a  smart  rap  with  the  basting  ladle,  exclaim- 
ing, "  Xow,  then,  go  on  with  thy  work  ;  what  art  thou  looking 
about  for  ?"  And  the  manoeuvre  was  effectual,  and  the  soldiers 
started  on  another  track.  The  wanderings  seem  to  have  been 
long,  nor  was  it  until  Wednesday,  October  loth,  the  same  day 
on  which  the  gallant  Lord  Derby  laid  his  head'  upon  the 
scaffold  at  Bolton,  in  Lancashire,  and  probably  about  the  same 
time  in  the  dav,  that  the  kino^  was  able  to  set  sail  for  the  coast 
of  Normandy.     The  language  of  Loul  Clarendon  concerning 


CEOMWELL   AT   "WORCESTER.  173 

tlie  adventures  and  ultimate  restoration  of  the  king  reads  so 
like  a  piece  of  mere  grim  satire  that  we  cannot  but  pause  for  a 
moment  to  quote  them  here  : 

"  We  may  tell  those  desperate  wretches,  who  yet  harbor  in 
tljeir  thoughts  wicked  designs  against  the  sacred  person  of  the 
king,  in  order  to  the  compassing  of  their  own  imaginations, 
that  God  Almighty  would  not  have  led  him  through  so  many 
wildernesses  of  afflictions  of  all  kinds,  conducted  him  through 
so  many  perils  by  sea,  and  perils  by  land,  snatched  him  out  of 
the  midst  of  this  kingdom  when  it  was  not  worthy  of  him,  and 
when  the  hands  of  his  enemies  were  even  upon  him,  when  they 
thought  themselves  so  sure  of  him  that  they  would  bid  so  cheap 
and  so  vile  a  price  for  him  :  He  would  not  in  that  article  have 
so  covered  him  with  a  cloud,  that  he  travelled  even  with  some 
pleasure  and  great  observation  through  the  midst  of  his 
enemies  :  He  would  not  so  wonderfully  have  new  modelled 
that  army  ;  so  inspired  their  hearts,  and  the  hearts  of  the 
whole  nation,  with  an  honest  and  impatient  longing  for  the 
return  of  their  dear  sovereign,  and  in  the  meantime  have  exer- 
cised him  (which  had  little  less  of  Providence  in  it  than  the 
other)  with  those  unnatural,  or  at  least  unusual,  disrespects  and 
reproaches  abroad,  that  he  might  have  a  harmless  and  an  inno- 
cent appetite  to  his  own  country,  and  return  to  his  own  people, 
with  a  full  value,  and  the  whole  unwasted  bulk  of  his  affec- 
tions, without  being  corrupted  and  biased  by  extraordinary 
foreign  obligations  ;  God  Almighty  would  not  have  done  all 
this  but  for  a  servant  whom  He  will  always  preserve  as  the 
apple  of  His  own  eye,  and  always  defend  from  the  most  secret 
machinations  of  his  enemies." 

When  the  king  came  back,  shall  we  say  that  it  was  to  his 
honor  that  he  remembered  with  gratitude  the  services  of  Jane 
Lane— by  that  time  Lady  Fisher — and  the  Penderels  ?  It 
would  have  been  an  addition  to  his  perpetual  dishonor  had  he 
forgotten  them,  had  he  not  sought  them  out  with  the  intention 
to  distinguish  them.  He  even  settled  a  sum  upon  them  in 
acknowledgment  of  their  services  and   fidelity   to  him  ;    but 


174  OLIVEE   CROMWELL. 

these  promises  appear  in  a  sliort  time  to  have  failed  in  fulfil- 
ment. But  the  interviews  they  had  with  the  king  in  London 
are  interesting.  Charles  wrote  a  very  handsome  letter  to  Lady 
Fisher,  before  the  Restoration,  full  of  respect  and  gratitude, 
and  siffnino-  himself,  "  Your  most  assured  and  constant  friend.  V 
Richard  Penderel,  Charles  introduced  to  his  Court  saying, 
"  The  simplest  rustic  who  serves  his  sovereign  in  the  time  of 
need  to  the  utmost  extent  of  his  ability,  is  as  deserving  of  our 
commeadatioti  as  the  victorious  leader  of  thousands.  Friend 
Richard,"  continued  the  king,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  thee  ;  thou 
wert  my  preserver  and  conductor,  the  bright  star  that  showed 
me  to  my  Bethlehem,  for  which  kindness  I  will  engrave  thy 
memory  on  the  tablet  of  a  faithful  heart."  Turning  to  the 
lords  the  king  said,  "  My  lords,  I  pray  you  respect  this  good 
man  for  my  sake.  Master  Richard,  be  bold  and  tell  these  lords 
what  passed  among  us  when  I  had  quitted  the  oak  at  Boscobel 
to  reach  Pit  Leason."  Altogether  the  king — who  is  assuredly 
no  favorite  with  this  present  writer,  who  also  much  wonders  at 
the  Providence  which  saved  him,  if  he  may  say  it  without 
irreverence,  when  so  many  better  men  fell  as  sacrifices  to  the 
passion,  the  caprice,  or  the  indignation  of  the  hour — may  be 
more  favorably  viewed  in  his  adventures  through  those  old 
villages,  ancient  halls,  and  wayside  inns,  and  in  his  dealings 
with  the  humble  attendants  who  risked  for  him  their  lives  in 
their  obscure  service,  than  in  any  other  of  the  incidents  and 
chapters  of  his  discreditable  career. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

CROMWELL    THE    USURPER. 

Passing  over  much  else,  there  is  one  circumstance  and  scene 
in  the  life  of  Comwell  which  has  ever  been  surrounded  with 
difiiculty,  his  great  act  of  usurpation  when  he  assumed  the 
power.  We  suppose  that  scene  is  one  of  the  most  memorable 
of  any  ;  it  is  written  upon  our  recollection  from  our  early  read- 
ing. The  Long  Parliament  is  associated  with  much  that  is 
most  illustrious  in  the  annals  of  those  days  ;  but  we  must 
remember  that  those  achievements  were  associated  with  its  very 
early  annals.  When  Cromwell  laid  his  hand  so  rudely  on  the 
symbols  of  power,  Pym  and  Hampden  were  dead,  and  many 
besides,  who,  although  less  known,  had  given  effect  to  its 
administrative  character.  The  talk  then  held  about  the  settle- 
ment of  Government,  the  unending  source  of  interminable  talk, 
had  degenerated  into  a  mere  republican  jangle.  Wild  theories 
were  woven  through  the  foggy  archways  of  dreamy  brains. 
Say  what  we  will  of  that  Long  Parliament,  it  had  exercised 
lately  little  power  in  governing  the  nation  ;  a  noisy,  garrulous, 
chattering,  self-opinionated  old  Parliament.  Henry  Hallam, 
whose  witness  is  so  true  that  from  his  verdict  there  is  seldom 
any  appeal,  has  said,  "  It  may  be  said,  I  think,  with  not 
greater  severity  than  truth,  that  scarce  two  or  three  public  acts 
of  justice,  humanity,  or  generosity,  and  very  few  of  political 
wisdom  and  courage,  are  recorded  of  them,  from  their  quarrel 
with  the  king  to  their  expulsion  by  Cromwell."  This  is 
always  necessary  to  be  borne  in  mind.  The  memories  of  many 
readers  are  so  confused  in  the  supposition  that  the  Long  Par- 
liament  which  Cromwell  so  rudely  scattered  was  the  same 
House  which,  in  the  earlier  years  of  its  history,  had  achieved 
for  the  country  services  so  remarkable.  Indeed,  it  was  the 
same  House,   but  how  different.     Its  greatest  spirits,   as  we 


176  OLIVEE   CROMWELL, 

have  seen,   were   departed  :    Pym    was   dead,    Hampden   was 
dead.     Cromwell,  as  he  looked  along  its  benches,  would  notice 
many  a  place  vacated  where  once  sat  some  strong  friend  of 
order  and  of  freedom.      It  had  so  shrunken  from  honor  that  it 
had  come  to  be  called  "  the  Rump,"  and  reminds  us  of  Sheri- 
dan's description  of  a  ministry  in  his  day,  of  which  only  one 
faithful   member  was  left,  "  that  all  the  honorable  parts  had 
vanished,  and  only  left  the  sitting  member  behind."     It  is  true 
there  were  great  and  honorable  names,   but  these  also  were 
associated    with    the    most    wild    and     fantastic    dreams    and 
schemes.     Then,   if  the  reader  should  desire  to  approve  the 
present  writer's  justice,  let  him  turn  to  review  the  various  ques- 
tions  which,    while    most   urgent   and   weighty    matters    were 
pressing,    this   "  Rump"    devoted   its  time   to   discuss.      Not 
indisposed   itself  to   enter  upon  the   work   of  persecution,    it 
became  unpopular  throughout  the  land  ;  it  was  attacked  by  all 
parties  ;  it  was  urged  even  to  dissolve  itself.     This,  it  persis- 
tently determined  not  to  do  ;  and  while  accomplishing  nothing 
for  Government  or  for  the  people,  on  the  twentieth  of  April, 
1653,  while  Cromwell  was  quietly  sitting  in  his  own  "  lodg- 
ings" in  Whitehall,  there  was  brought  to  him  a  message,  that 
at  that   very   moment  a  Bill   was  being  hurried  through  the 
House,  by  which  this  most  comely  piece  of  Government  was 
resolving  its  own  indefectible  perpetuity,  and  thus  attempting 
a  great  act  of  usurpation.      Let  the  reader,  therefore,  distinctly 
understand  that  it   was   the   usurpation    of   capability   against 
incapability  ;    the    House    must    be    checkmated.     Cromwell 
therefore   immediately   gathered   his   officers   round  him,    and 
walked  down  to  the  assembly. 

Moments  there  assuredly  are  when  the  destiny  of  the  nation 
hangs  on  one  strong  and  supremely  capable  man  ;  when  a 
nation  can  no  more  be  saved,  than  a  universe  can  be  governed, 
by  a  Committee  of  Ways  and  Means.  Committees  are  a  fine 
expedient — a  parliament  is  only  a  large  national  committee  or 
club — but  in  moments  of  great  exigency  and  danger  a  chief  is 
wanted.     Looking  through  all  England  at  that  moment,   we 


CROMWELL   THE    USURPER.  177 

cannot  find  another  man  who  could  have  been  the  great  leader. 
Look  round  upon  their  ranks.  There  are  men  fierv  in  battle, 
and  there  are  men  with  the  clear  an^  calm  mind  ;  but  England 
needed  at  that  time  a  man  of  prompt  and  decisive  instinct, 
and  in  Cromwell  we  behold  such  a  man.  He  could  not  have 
written  the  "  Monarchy  of  Man"  with  Sir  John  Eliot,  nor  the 
"Science  of  Government"  of  Algernon  Sydney,  nor  the 
"  Meditations"  of  Sir  Harry  Vane.  But  these  men  saw  only 
in  a  straight  line  ;  they  saw  only  their  own  idea  ;  they  were 
content  to  become — they  all  did  become — martyrs  to  their 
idea.  Cromwell's  eye  swept  the  horizon,  and  he  saw  that 
England  wanted  equitable  government,  the  rule  of  justice.  He 
ruled  not  by  the  Presbyterian  or  the  Republican  or  the  Inde- 
pendent theory  of  justice.  He  instinctively  apprehended  the 
wants  of  men  ;  and  hence,  while  he  was,  no  doubt,  in  many 
directions  hated — and  perhaps  few  felt .  that  his  views  exactly 
squared  with  theirs — all  were  compelled  to  feel  that  he  alone 
was  able  to  hold  the  restive  horses  along  the  dizzy  and  difficult 
crag  ;  he  alone  was  able  to  govern  without  a  theory,  and  there- 
fore justly. 

It  is  somethino-  strikinff  to  contrast  the  two  men  o;oin<>:  down 
to  the  same  House.  Charles  was  a  king,  and  he  went  to  arrest 
the  members  and  to  assert  that  there  was  no  law  in  England 
save  his  will  ;  but  he  went  as  king  Nominal.  Cromwell  went 
with  no  royalty  about  him,  yet  he  went  as  king  Real ;  and  he, 
too,  went  for  the  still  more  amazing  purpose  of  daring  that 
whole  House,  and  turning  it  out  into  the  streets.  The  intelli- 
gence which  we  have  seen  reached  him  that  morning  ceitaiuly 
might  well  fill  him  with  alarm.  It  was  the  news  of  what 
would,  if  carried  out,  materiallv^  increase  the  difficulties  of  his 
position  ;  and  he  determined  on  the  venture.  Therefore,  in 
his  plain  suit  of  black,  with  his  gray  worsted  stockings,  he 
went  down  to  the  House,  and  took  his  ordinary  seat.  But 
why  do  we  describe  the  scene  which  has  been  described  so 
often  ?  How  restlessly  he  sat  there.  How  he  assayed  several 
times  to  rise,  and  sunk  back  again  upon  his  seat.     How,  at 


178  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

last,  as  the  motion  was  about  to  be  put,  he  sprang  from  bis 
place,  threw  off  his  bat,  and  began  to  speak  ;  and  how  be 
began  to  speak  in  commendation  of  the  Parliament  ;  then 
launched  out  in  condemnation  of  their  sins  ;  then,  with  most 
memorable  words,  took  the  Speaker  from  the  chair,  turned  the 
members  out,  threw  away  the  mace,  emptied  the  celebrated 
chamber,  locked  the  door,  and  walked  away  with  the  key  in 
bis  pocket  ! 

The  inarticulateness  of  Cromwell  has  been  commented  upon. 
He  speaks,  but  you  cannot  fathom  all  his  meaning.  Is  not 
this  the  surest  type  and  token  of  the  master-man,  be  he  states- 
man, or  any  kind  of  man  ?  Not  even  to  himself  surely  was  all 
his  meaning  revealed  ;  how  could  it  be  to  those  to  whom  he 
spoke  ?  Even  to  all  the  mightiest  souls  does  thought  lie  deeper 
far  than  any  speech.  In  all  his  words  there  is  the  heavy  roll 
of  a  deep  sea  ;  but  this,  when  the  fit  of  inspiration  was  upon 
him,  was  especially  the  case.  Then,  while  the  bright  forks  of 
lightning  pierced  far  and  deep  through  his  words,  he  yet  used 
many  which  were  unintelligible  to  those  to  whom  he  spoke. 
It  seems  as  though  he  could  not  always  see,  at  the  moment, 
what  he  was  saying,  but  w^orked  out  bis  meaning  into  action 
through  his  speech.  Nothing  has  been  more  commented  upon 
than  the  reserve  of  Cromwell,  as  certain  slanderers  choose  to 
call  it,  his  "hypocrisy."  Of  course  there  was  reserve; 
secretiveness,  if  the  reader  will  ;  a  poor  statesman  he  if  he  have 
not  this.  Test  of  all  power  to  command  is  the  possibility  of 
intellectual  reserve  in  combination  with  moral  sympathy.  A 
famous  instance  of  that  we  have  in  an  interview  with  Ludlf'w  ; 
a  memorable  afternoon.  It  was  after  there  had  been  held  a 
Council  of  State,  and  Cromwell  whispered  him  that  he  wished 
to  speak  to  him.  Cromwell  was  just  on  his  w'ay  to  Scotland, 
to  that  sublime  campaign  of  his  in  which  occurred  the  grand 
episode  of  Dunbar.  He  took  Ludlow  into  the  queen's  guard- 
room, and  there  he  talked  to  him  some  time,  denouncing  the 
tortuous  jungle  of  English  law  ;  speaking  of  the  great  provi- 
dences of  God  in  England,  and  what  might  be  done  by  a  good 


CROMWELL  THE   USURPER.  1*^9 

brave  man.  In  particular,  he  talked  in  a  most  unintelligible 
manner  of  the  1 1 0th  l^salm.  It  is  not  so  unintelligible  to  us  now. 
And  we  think  this  is  the  moment  to  say  a  few  words  upon 
that  other  ever  difficult  problem  :  What  were  Cromwell's  inten- 
tions with  reference  to  himself  and  to  Charles  ?  We  cannot 
see  that  there  is  foundation  for  any  other  thought  than  that 
Cromwell  especially  intended  to  preserve  English  law  ;  and  to 
him,  we  dare  say,  a  king  was  not  more  sacred  than  a  man,  and 
a  lawless  king  not  so  sacred  as  an  obedient  and  law-keeping 
man.  Yet  we  see  no  reason  to  think  that  he  was  beckoned  on 
by  any  shades  of  unlawful  ambition,  nor  do  we  see  any  reaj^on 
to  doubt  that  he  did  at  one  time  fully  intend  to  save  the  king. 
There  is  an  important  principle,  to  which  we  have  already 
alluded,  in  Guizot's  story  of  the  English  Commonwealth,  which 
we  believe  to  be  substantially  sound  and  just — namely,  "  That 
God  does  not  grant  to  great  men,  who  have  set  on  disorder  the 
foundations  of  their  greatness,  the  power  to  regulate  at  their 
pleasure  and  for  centuries,  even  according  to  their  better  de- 
sires, the  government  of  nations."  This  is  true  substantially. 
But  it  is  also  true  that  Charles  had  really  set  on  disorder  the 
foundations  of  his  greatness.  The  race  of  men  who  first  con- 
fronted Charles — Eliot,  Pym,  and  Hampden  especially — were 
men  of  law  ;  they  no  doubt  desired  to  see  the  government  set- 
tled in  a  constitutional  manner.  We  do  not  believe  that  those 
first  actors  were  republicans.  Certainly  not  in  the  sense  in 
which  John  Milton,  Sir  Harry  Vane,  Algernon  Sydney,  and 
Harrington  were  republicans.  To  them  the  great  thing  that 
England  wanted  was  good,  just,  equitable  law  ;  they  were  men 
who  would  have  made  some  such  arrangement  as  that  whioii 
was  actually  made  when  William  III.  ascended  the  throne. 
The  king  threw  all  this  desire  into  a  hopeless  imbroglio.  The 
raising  of  his  banner,  and  the  subsequent  civil  war  created  a 
hopeless  anarchy.  Cromwell,  although  he  had  some  education 
for  the  law,  and  was  originally  intended  for  the  legal  profes- 
sion, had  little  of  the  lawyer  in  his  nature.  Casuistries  and 
subtleties  enough  might  spin  tlicir  (';)bwebs  through  his  brain, 


180  OLIVER   CROMWELL, 

but  they  were  not    such    as  lawyers    love,  in    catches    and    in 
technicalities.      He  had,  we  believe,  a  strong  love  of  English 
justice.      He  had,  we  believe,  a  resolute  desire  to  see  things 
established  by  law.     Does  any  one  suppose  that  had  power  and 
ambition  been  his  mark,  he  might  not  have  achieved  it  in  a  far 
readier  way  than  by  that  sophistical  and  doubtful  Protectorate  ? 
If  the  king  would  have  allowed  himself  to  be  saved — if,  we 
say,  he  could  have  been  honest — Cromwell   would  have  served 
him  and  saved  him.     And  had  he  not  prized  the  happiness  of 
his  daughter  too  highly,  what  was  to  prevent  his  acceptance  of 
the  offer  of  Charles  Stuart,  the  exile,  in  which  case  the  name 
of  Cromwell  might  have  been  associated  with  the  royal  line  of 
kings  ?     But   we   think   little  of  these  things.      Can  we  think 
that  the   man    who   struck   down   the   majesty    of   England  at 
Marston  and  Naseby,  who  laid  Ireland  groaning  at  his  feet,  and 
crushed  even  the  haughty  presbytery  at  Dunbar,  can  we  sup- 
pose that  any  feelings  of  fear  restrained  him  from  decking  his 
brows  with  the  round  of  sovereignty  ?     That  the  idea  of  mon- 
archy came  to  him  again  and  again  we  can  well  believe.      But 
we  can  believe  also,  and  do  believe,  that  nothing  but  the  purity 
of  his   own   purposes  restrained  his  hand   from  grasping  the 
crown.     Be  sure  of  this,  no  fantastic  republican  was  he.      He 
knew  the  mind  of  England  too  well.      He  knew  human  nature 
too  well.      He  knew  history  too  well  ;  for  let  us  not  forget  that 
he  had  received  the  education  of  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman, 
and  scholars  admired  his  magnificent  and  well-selected  library 
in  a  day  when  the  collection  of  books  was  not  a  fashion.      But 
having  conquered   Charles,  he  saw,  of  course,  that  power  and 
responsibility    must   reside   somewhere,    and   in   some   person. 
Where  ?     In  that  House  whom  he  retained  in  existence,  whose 
greatest  spirits  were  all  dead,  or,  if  remaining  there,  with  their 
theories    of     impracticable    governments,    framed    on    Grecian 
models  or  Italian  oligarchies,  surrounding  their  whole  concep- 
tions with  a  mist  and  a  haze  ?     What  that  Long  Parliament 
was  fitted  to  be  we  see  by  what  it  was  when  he  appeared  in  its 
midst,  and  by  what  he  di  I  when   once  more  it  assembled,  and 


CROMWELL  THE   USURPER.  181 

laid  England  under  so  damnable  and  disgraceful  a  tyranny  that 
every  nerve  in  English  flesh  thrills  with  pain  and  shame  when 
we  think  that  our  land  has  known  such  atrocious  and  iniquitous 
misrule.  Cromwell,  we  believe,  all  along  used  the  circum- 
stances as  they  transpired  as  best  he  could.  What  would  we 
have  had  him  do  ?  When  the  king  was  conquered,  would  we 
have  had  him  place  the  conquered  tyrant  once  more  upon  the 
throne,  without  any  promise  or  constitution  ?  We  have  seen 
that  there  was  no  reliance  on  his  faith  ;  yet  there  are  those  who 
have  ever  a  good  word  for  him.  But  he  could  not  be  true,  he 
could  not  be  sincere.  "  I  wonder  you  don't  leave  off  this 
abominable  custom  of  lying,  George,"  said  Lord  Muskerry  to 
the  celebrated  George  Rooke,  when  they  were  sailing  together. 
"  I  can'1  help  it,"  said  George.  "Pooh  !  pooh  !"  said  his 
lordship  ;  "  it  may  be  done  by  degrees.  Suppose  you  were  to 
begin  by  uttering  one  truth  a  day  !"  If  Charles  had  only  told 
the  truth  "  hy  degrees,''''  had  he  been  sincere  only  now  and 
then,  he  might  have  been  saved  !  He  signed  the  death-warrant 
of  his  best  friend  and  strongest  servant,  Lord  Strafford,  after 
he  had  most  faithfully  pledged  that  he  would  rather  lose  his 
crown  than  perform  such  an  act  of  unfealty,  and  "  on  the  icord 
of  a  Jcing'^  became  a  proverb  and  byword  from  that  circum- 
stance through  all  ages.  Then  came  the  revelations  of  the  let- 
ters seized  on  the  field  of  Naseby.  Then,  when  the  king  was 
in  the  power  of  the  Parliament,  Cromwell  desired  to  save  him, 
and  Cromwell  was  willing  to  do  so,  Tlie  king  had  appealed  to 
him,  in  his  despair,  from  the  Isle  of  Wight  ;  and  the  letters,  in 
the  saddle-bags  of  the  king's  private  messenger,  to  the  queen 
in  France,  seized  at  the  Blue  Boar,  in  Ilolborn,  revealed  the 
king  as  saying  of  Cromwell,  whose  hand  was  graciously,  at  its 
'own  peril,  attempting  to  save  him,  "  He  thinks  that  I  may 
confer  upon  him  the  Garter  and  Star,  but  I  shall  know,  in 
good  time,  how  to  fit  his  neck  to  a  halter/^'  Even  Mrs. 
Hutchinson,  no  friend  to  Cromwell,  confessed  her  belief  in  the 
faithfulness  of  his  desire  to  save  the  king,  a  desire  defeated  by 
the  king's  own  unfaithfulness. 


183  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

Charles  the  First  disposed  of — what  then  ?  Charles  Stuart 
the  Second,  should  he  place  him  on  the  tlirone  ?  No  ;  we 
may  well  believe  this  child  of  light  had  no  fellowship  with  that 
Belial.  The  House  was  composed  only  of  about  seventy  mem- 
bers. They  were  passing  an  Act  that  tliey  would  not  be  dis- 
solved but  by  their  own  consent.  They  would  by  that  Act 
have  been  sittina  there  now  !  Cromwell  would  not  trust  that 
weakness.  He  had  also,  we  believe,  no  great  regard  for  his 
own  head  ;  still,  we  dare  say,  lie  thought  it  fitted  its  own  neck 
very  well,  and  he  determined  to  do  his  best  to  keep  it  there. 
On  the  whole  he  saw,  we  believe,  that  the  people  must  return 
to  their  ancient  monarchy  ;  but  many  prejudices  and  much  ill 
lilood  must  die  out  first.  He  determined  to  watch  over  the 
interests  of  England  like  the  sentinel  of  Providence,  and  he 
called  himself  the  Lord  Protector.  Well  did  he  deserve  the 
name  ! 

Well,  he  has,  then,  done  the  deed,  call  him  what  you  will  ; 
he  has  really  ascended  the  throne.  He  did,  no  doubt,  that 
which  the  best  spirits  of  his  own  day  did  perceive  to  be  wisest 
and  best  ;  but  let  no  person  see  in  this  any  inauguration  of 
freedom,  or  homage  to  complete  suffrage  ;  it  was  homage  to 
power.  He  took  that  place  by  right  of  the  ablest,  and  we  may 
now  follow  him  a  few  paces  into  the  great  acts  of  his  govern- 
ment. We  have  called  him  the  Protector.  That  word,  you 
will  perceive,  does  adequately  represent  what  he  was,  and  what 
he  dared  to  be — the  guardian  genius  of  England's  Common- 
wealth ;  the  name  as  we  believe  most  venerable  for  his  age  in 
the  annals  of  civil  and  religious  freedom  ;  man  of  widest  heart 
and  shrewdest  eye. 

Some  have  compared  him  with  Napoleon — Napoleon  the 
First — to  his  disadvantage.  But  we  shall  soon  see  the  justice 
of  that  criticism  which  finds  the  greatness  of  Napoleon  rather 
in  that  he  did  his  work  on  stilts  ;  he  performed  his  work  in  a 
large,  ambitious  manner,  and  strode  to  and  fro  in  self-conscious 
exaggeration  before  the  eyes  of  Europe.  Cromwell  performed 
his  work   on   our  own  island,  but  he  did  not  leave  it.      He 


CROMWELL  THE   USURPER.  183 

humbled  the  proud  empires  of  Europe  by  a  glance.  It  took 
battles  to  raise  himself  to  his  place  of  Protector,  but  he  became 
the  Dictator  of  Europe  by  the  magnetism  of  a  great  intelli- 
gence. From  his  council-chamber  in  Whitehall  he  dictated  his 
own  terms.  Always  let  it  be  remembered  that  Napoleon  the 
First,  in  order  to  retain  his  power,  directed  all  the  energies  of 
his  country  away  from  any,  even  the  slightest,  attempt  at 
domestic  reform  of  his  own  land,  where  reforms  of  every  kind 
were  so  much  needed  ;  and  he  decimated  the  unhappy  people 
of  his  own  land  by  embroiling  them  in  wars  wnth  every  nation 
in  Europe  ;  he  kindled  the  conflagrations  of  martial  glory,  and 
carried  everywhere  the  banners  and  eagles  of  conquest,  in  order 
that  he  might  dazzle  by  the  fame  of  his  great  military  dictator- 
ship. To  our  indignant  humanity.  Napoleon  looks  like  a  poor, 
self-exaggerating  child,  contrasted  with  the  farmer  of  St.  Ives. 
Macaulay  well  points  out  how  greatly  it  would  have  been  to 
the  interests  of  Cromwell's  ambition  to  have  plunged  his  coun- 
try into  a  great  European  war,  and  how  fertile  were  the  occa- 
sions for  such  a  war  !  And  had  he  constituted  himself  the 
armed  as  he  was  the  peaceful,  protector  of  Protestantism  in 
Europe,  like  another  Gustavus  Adolphus,  how  prompt  at  his 
call  for  such  a  cause  would  have  leaped  up  that  mighty  army 
of  which  he  was  the  chief,  and  which  had  regarded  his  voice, 
through  so  many  well-fqught  fields,  as  the  very  voice  of  the 
Lord  of  Hosts  speaking  to  men.  He  had  no  such  ambition  ; 
only  to  serve  his  country  as  best  he  could,  and  Protestantism 
always,  in  all  peaceful  sincerity. 

Cromwell  has  often  been  compared,  and  to  his  disadvantage, 
with  Washington  ;  in  fact,  there  can  be  no  comparison,  the 
two  men  and  their  entire  careers  are  all  a  contrast.  How  easy, 
how  simple  the  work  of  the  illustrious  founder  of  the  United 
States  compared  with  that  of  the  great  soldier  of  the  Common- 
wealth of  England  !  Cromwell  rises  as  on  a  mighty  rock,  a 
great  upheaval  from  a  mob  of  kings.  He  rises  solitary  from 
the  sea  of  Time  behind  him  ;  but,  again,  the  sea  of  old  Mediae- 
valism  and  Feudalism  rises,  and  rolls  around  the  rock  on  which 


184  OLIVEK    CROMWELL. 

he  stands  solitary  and  alone,  Washington  stands  high  on  his 
rock  ;  but  it  is  like  a  breakwater,  or  a  peninsula  of  some  great 
continent,  and  from  it  there  spreads,  not  the  moaning  sea 
around  it,  but  there  extends  from  it  the  road  along  which 
marches  victorious  humanity.  It  is  understood  that  they  botli 
refused  the  crown  :  Cromwell  in  the  council  chamber,  Wash- 
ington in  the  camp.  The  witchery  of  that  separation  of  royalty 
had  no  power  to  detain  either  fi-om  the  high  behests  of  duty, 
or  to  delude  them  to  the  path  in  which  they  might  have  found 
themselves  in  treason  against  the  rights  of  man.  Washino-ton 
rose  amid  the  acclamations  and  love  of  the  United  States  ; 
Cromwell  knew  that  he  onlv  leashed,  and  held  in  check  the 
gorgons,  hydras,  and  chimeras  of  persecution,  despotism,  and 
tyranny.  Washington  beheld  all  conflicting  interests  combin- 
ing in  one  happy,  prosperous  nationality  ;  Cromwell  stood 
strong,  holding  the  balances  and  scales  of  toleration  and  justice, 
between  a  hundred  sects,  all  prepared  to  fly  at  each  other's 
throats,  and  every  one  of  which  hated  him  because  he  was 
strong.  Washington  died  in  peace,  and  rests  in  an  honored 
grave  ;  scarcely  was  Cromwell  laid  in  his  tomb  when  his  body 
was  torn  from  the  grave,  and  the  fiends,  who  could  not  touch 
the  living  lion,  like  jackals  or  hyenas  tore  the  dead  body  limb 
from  limb,  and  affixed  his  venerable  head  over  Westminster 
Hall.  JVidely  different  was  the  work  of  Cromwell  from  that 
of  Washington  ;  and  widely  different  his  heart  of  passion  and 
fire  from  Washington's  calm,  still  spirit.  Yet  Cromwell  was, 
as  has  been  most  truly  said,  the  greatest  human  force  ever 
directed  to  a  moral  purpose,  and  he  seems  to  look  across  the 
ocean  and  even  to  anticipate  Washington.  He  still  rises  on 
his  rock  forecasting  coming  years.  The  men,  the  results  of 
whose  work  are  most  remote,  must  wait  longest  for  the  reward 
and  vintage  of  their  toil.  Hence  the  work  of  Washington  met 
with  its  immediate  reward.  He,  indeed,  laid  the  foundation 
of  a  Constitution  which  should  abide  secure  in  the  future  ;  but 
its  immediate  worth  was  recognized,  he  had  nothing  to  do  with 
settling  the  rights  of  conscience,  the  claims  of  distracting  opin- 


CROMWELL   THE    USURPER.  185 

ions,  and  the  conflicts  of  Church  and  State.  The  space  which 
Cromwell  filled  was  so  large  that  only  when  far  removed  could 
his  greatness  be  seen  ;  and  to  him,  perhaps,  almost  beyond  any 
other  mortal,  most  truly  applies  the  often-quoted  words  of  the 
sweet  English  poet  whom  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  is  now  attempt- 
ing to  teach  the  English  nation  to  despise — 

"As  some  tall  cliff  that  lifts  its  awful  form, 
Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  leaves  the  storm, 
Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds  be  spread, 
Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head  !" 


ijfefa«» 


CHAPTER   XV. 

CROMWELL    THE    PROTECTOR. 

April,  1653,  he  dissolved  "  the  Rump  !"  "  We  did  not 
hear  a  dog  bark  at  their  going,"  he  said  afterward  in  one  of 
his  speeches,  and  it  expresses  the  very  truth  of  the  event. 
Henceforth,  until  1G58 — a  brief  parenthesis  of  time,  indeed, 
in  the  history  of  the  country — he  governed  the  country  abso- 
lutely. In  a  history  so  brief  as  this  we  shall  not  attempt  to 
detail  the  circumstances  of  those  troublesome  years.  Alas  ! 
all  his  battles  had  been  easy  to  win  compared  with  the  task  of 
ruling  the  distracted  realm.  He  called  "  the  little  Parlia- 
ment," or  the  short,  as  its  predecessor  had  been  called  "the 
long."  It  had  been  resolved  in  a  council  of  the  chief  officers 
and  eminent  persons  of  the  realm—  but  no  doubt  by  Cromwell's 
own  desire — that  the  Commonwealth  should  be  in  a  single 
person,  that  that  person  should  be  Cromwell,  under  the  title  of 
the  Lord  Protector  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  to  be 
advised  and  assisted  by  "  a  council  of  not  more  than  twenty- 
one  able,  discreet,  and  godly  persons."  His  inauguration  took 
place  on  the  16th  of  December,  of  that  year,  in  the  presence 
of  the  Lords  Commissioners  of  the  Great  Seal  of  England,  the 
Barons  of  the  Exchequer,  and  all  the  judges  in  their  robes,  the 
Council  of  State,  the  Lord  Mayor,  Recorder,  and  Aldermen  of 
the  City  of  London  in  their  scarlet  gowns,  and  the  chief  officers 
of  the  army  ;  a  chair  of  state  was  set  in  the  midst  of  the  Court 
of  Chancery,  and  on  the  left  side  of  it  stood  Cromwell  in  a 
plain  suit  of  black  velvet.  An  instrument  of  Government  was 
read  to  him,  to  which  he  attached  his  signature,  and  in  which 
he  declared,  in  the  presence  of  God,  that  he  would  not  violate 
or  infringe  the  matters  and  things  therein  contained,  and  to 
which  he  set  his  name.  He  then  sat  down  in  the  chair  of 
state,    which  was  while  he   filled  it  the  strongest  throne  in 


CROMWELL   THE    PROTECTOR.  187 

Europe  ;  next  day  he  was  proclaimed  Protector,  by  sound  of 
trumpet,  in  the  Palace  Yard,  Westminster,  and  at  the  Koyal 
Exchange  in  the  City. 

What  manner  of  man  was  he  at  this  period — fifty-four  years 
of  age  ?  See  him  standing  there,  before  all  England,  and  all 
following  ages,  a  man  of  some  five  feet  ten  or  more,  of 
massive,  stout  stature,  and  large  massive  head,  dignified 
military  carriage  ;  "  of  leonine  aspect,"  says  Carlyle,  "  a  figure 
of  sufficient  impressiveness,  not  lovely  to  the  man  milliner,  nor 
pretending  to  be  so  ;  an  expression  of  valor  and  devout  intelli- 
gence, energy,  and  delicacy  on  a  basis  of  simplicity  ;  wart 
above  the  right  eyebrow,  nose  of  considerable  blunt  aquiline 
proportions  ;  strict,  yet  copious  lips,  full  of  all  tremulous  sensi- 
bilities, and  also,  if  need  were,  of  all  fierceness  and  rigors  ; 
deep  loving  eyes — call  them  grave,  call  them  stern — looking 
from  those  craggy  brows  as  if  in  life-long  sorrow,  and  yet  not 
thinking  it  sorrow,  thinking  it  only  labor  and  endeavor." 
Thus  Hampden's  prophecy  at  last  was  realized,  and  "  that 
sloven''  had  made  himself  the  greatest  man  in  the  kingdom.* 

Cromwell  called  Parliaments  from  time  to  time,  but  they 
gave  him  no  satisfaction,  nor  the  nation  either  ;  the  members 
spent  their  time  very  much  in  useless  and  idle  chatter.  But, 
again  and  again,  he  was  urged  by  the  Council  and  by  the  Com- 
mons to  take  the  Crown  :  this  formed  no  part  of  the  plan  in 
his  mind.  We  have  seen  that  he  probably  knew  that  the  nation 
would  settle  itself  beneath  its  ancient  monarchy  again,  and  he 
had  no  ambition  to  form  or  found  a  phantom  royal  dynasty. 

*  Concerning  likenesses  of  Cromwell,  it  cannot  be  uninteresting,  I 
think,  to  say  that,  probablj',  my  excellent  friend,  the  Rev.  D.  Kewer 
Williams,  of  Hackney,  London  (England),  has  the  largest  and  most 
curious  collection  of  every  kind— engravings,  paintings,  etc.,  etc. — 
in  the  world  ;  in  fact,  he  has  a  real  Cromwellian  museum.  Let  a 
committee  be  formed  for  the  purchase  of  these  ;  let  all  other  possi- 
ble obtainable  Cromwell  memorials  be  added,  and  some  such  monu- 
ment reared  to  the  Protector's  memory  as  that  of  Robert  Burns  in 
Edinburgh,  as  Goethe's  house  in  Frankfort,  as  Michael  Angelo's  in 
Florence. 


188  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

The  following  is  a  very  characteristic  letter  to  his  son-in-law, 
and  seems  to  admit  us,  in  a  very  clear  manner,  into  the  mind 
of  the  Protector  on  this  subject  : 

"To  the  Lord  Fleetwood,  Lord- Deputy  of  Ireland, 

"  Whitehall,  22nd  June,  1655. 

**  Dear  Charles, — I  write  not  often  :  at  once  I  desire  thee 
to  know  I  most  dearly  love  thee  ;  and,  indeed,  my  heart  is 
plain  to  thee,  as  thy  heart  can  well  desire  ;  let  nothing  shake 
thee  in  this.  The  wretched  jealousies  that  are  among  us,  and 
the  spirit  of  calumny,  turn  all  into  gall  and  wormwood.  My 
heart  is  for  the  people  of  God  ;  that  the  Lord  knows,  and  will 
in  due  time  manifest  ;  yet  thence  are  my  wounds  ;  which 
though  it  grieves  me,  yet  through  the  grace  of  God  doth  not 
discourage  me  totally.  Many  good  inen  are  repining  at  every- 
thing ;  though  indeed  very  many  good  are  well  satisfied,  and 
.satisfying  daily.  The  will  of  the  Lord  will  bring  forth  good  in 
due  time. 

"  It's  reported  that  you  are  to  be  sent  for,  and  Harry  to  be 
Deputy  ;  which,  truly,  never  entered  into  my  heart.  The 
Lord  knows  my  desire  was  for  him  and  his  brother  to  have 
lived  private  lives  in  the  countr}'  ;  and  Harry  knows  this  very 
well,  and  how  difBcultly  I  was  persuaded  to  give  him  his  com- 
mission for  his  present  place.  This  I  say  as  from  a  simple  and 
sincere  heart.  The  noise  of  my  being  crowned,  etc.,  are  similar 
malicious  figments. 

"  Dear  Charles,  my  dear  love  to  thee  ;  and  to  my  dear 
Biddy,  who  is  a  joy  to  my  heart,  for  what  I  hear  of  the  Lord 
in  her.  Bid  her  be  cheerful  and  rejoice  in  the  Lord  once  and 
again  ;  if  she  knows  the  covenant  (of  grace),  she  cannot  but 
do  so.  For  that  transaction  is  without  her  ;  sure  and  stead- 
fast, between  the  Father  and  the  Mediator  in  His  blood. 
Therefore,  leaning  upon  the  Son,  or  looking  to  Him,  thirsting 
after  Him,  and  embracing  Him,  we  are  His  seed,  and  the 
covenant  is  sure  to  all  the  seed.  The  compact  is  for  the  seed  ; 
God  is  bound  in  faithfulness  to  Christ,  and  in  Him,  to  us. 

* 


CROMWELL   THE    PROTECTOR.  180 

The  covenant  is  without  us  ;  a  transaction  between  God  and 
Christ.  Look  up  to  it.  God  engageth  in  it  to  pardon  us  ; 
to  write  His  law  in  our  heart  ;  to  plant  His  fear  so  that 
we  shall  never  depart  from  Him.  We,  under  all  our  sins 
and  infirmities,  can  daily  ofEer  a  perfect  Christ  ;  and  thus 
we  have  peace  and  safety,  and  apprehension  of  love,  from  a 
Father  in  covenant  ;  who  cannot  deny  Himself.  And  truly  in 
this  is  all  my  salvation  ;  and  this  helps  me  to  bear  my  great 
burdens. 

"  If  you  have  a  mind  to  come  over  with  your  dear  wife, 
take  the  best  opportunity  for  the  good  of  the  public  and  your 
own  convenience.  The  Lord  bless  you  all.  Pray  for  me,  that 
the  Lord  would  direct  and  keep  me.  His  servant.  I  bless  the 
Lord  I  am  not  my  own  ;  but  my  condition  to  flesh  and  blood 
is  very  hard.  Pray  for  me  ;  I  do  for  you  all.  Commend  me 
to  all  friends. 

"  I  rest,  your  loving  father,  Oliver  P." 

On  the  13th  of  April,  1657,  the  Protector  delivered  his 
eleventh  recorded  speech,  in  reply  to  the  reasons  which  had 
been  urged  upon  him  by  the  House  of  Commons,  and  the  grpat 
lawyers,  to  take  upon  himself  the  designation  of  king  : 

"  I  undertook  the  place  I  am  now  in,  not  so  much  out  of 
hope  of  doing  any  good,  as  out  of  a  desire  to  prevent  mischief 
and  evil  ;  which  I  did  see  was  imminent  on  the  nation.  I  say, 
we  were  runnino-  headlong;  into  confusion  and  disorder,  and 
would  necessarily  have  run  into  blood  ;  and  I  was  passive  to 
those  that  desired  me  to  undertake  the  place  which  I  now  have. 

' '  And,  therefore,  I  am  not  contending  for  one  name  compared 
with  another  ;  and  therefore,  have  nothing  to  answer  to  any 
arguments  that  were  used  for  preferring  the  name  of  kingship 
to  protectorship.  For  I  should  almost  think  any  name  were 
better  than  my  name  ;  and  I  should  altogether  think  any 
person  fitter  than  I  am  for  such  business  ;  and  I  compliment 
not,  God  knows  it. 

"  But  this  I  should  say,  that  T  dn  think  you,  in  the  settling 


190  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

of  the  peace  and  liberties  of  this  nation,  which  cries  as  loud 
upon  you  as  ever  nation  did  for  somewhat  that  may  beget  a 
consistence,  ought  to  attend  to  that  ;  othewise  the  nation  will 
fall  in  pieces  !  And  in  that,  so  far  as  I  can,  /  am  ready  to 
serve,  not  as  a  king,  but  as  a  constable,  if  you  like  !  For  truly 
I  have,  as  before  God,  often  thought  that  I  could  not  tell  what 
my  business  was,  nor  what  I  was  in  the  place  where  I  stood  in, 
save  comparing  myself  to  a  good  constable  set  to  keep  the 
peace  of  the  parish. 

"  I  say,  therefore,  I  do  judge  for  myself  there  is  no  such 
necessity  of  this  name  of  king. 

"  I  must  say  a  little  ;  I  think  I  have  somewhat  of  conscience 
to  answer  as  to  the  matter,  and  I  shall  deal  seriously  as  before 
God. 

"  If  you  do  not  all  of  you,  I  am  sure  some  of  you  do,  and  it 
behoves  me  to  say  that  I  do  '  know  my  calling  from  the  first  to 
this  day.'  I  was  a  person  who,  from  my  first  employment, 
was  suddenly  preferred  and  lifted  up  from  lesser  trusts  to 
greater  ;  from  my  first  being  a  captain  of  a  troop  of  horse  ; 
and  did  labor  as  well  as  I  could  to  discharge  my  trust  ;  and 
God  blossed  me  therein  as  it  pleased  Him.  And  I  did  truly 
and  plainly— and  in  a  way  of  foolish  simplicity,  as  it  was 
judged  by  very  great  and  wise  men,  and  good  men  too — desire 
to  make  my  instruments  help  me  in  that  work.  I  had  a  very 
worthy  friend  then  ;  and  he  was  a  very  noble  person,  and  I 
know  his  memory  is  very  grateful  to  all — Mr.  John  Hampden. 
At  my  going  out  into  this  engagement  [enterprise],  I  saw  our 
men  were  beaten  at  every  hand.  I  did  indeed  ;  and  desired 
him  that  he  would  make  some  additions  to  my  Lord  Essex's 
army,  of  some  new  regiments  ;  and  I  told  him  I  would  be  ser- 
viceable to  him  in  bringing  such  men  in  as  I  thought  had  a 
spirit  that  would  do  something  in  the  work.  This  is  very  true 
that  I  tell  you  ;  God  knows  I  lie  not.  '  Your  troops,'  said  I, 
are  most  of  them  old  decayed  serving  men  and  tapsters,  and 
such  kind  of  fellows  ;  and,  said  I,  '  their  troops  are  gentle- 
man's  sons,    younger   sons,    ;iiid   persons  of   quality  ;   do  you 


CROMAVELL  THE   PROTECTOR.  191 

think  that  the  spirits  of  such  base  and  mean  fellows  will  ever 
be  able  to  encounter  gentlemen,  that  have  honor  and  courage, 
and  resolution  in  them  ?  You  must  get  men  of  spirit  ;  and 
take  it  not  ill  what  I  say — I  know  you  will  not — of  a  spirit  that 
is  likely  to  go  as  far  as  gentlemen  will  go  ; — or  else  you  will  be 
beaten  still.'  I  told  him  sq  ;  I  did  truly.  He  was  a  wise  and 
worthy  person  ;  and  he  did  think  that  I  talked  a  good  notion, 
but  an  impracticable  one.  Truly  I  told  him  that  I  could  do 
somewhat  in  it  ;  I  did  so,  and  the  result  was — impute  it  to 
what  you  please — I  raised  such  men  as  had  the  fear  of  God 
before  them,  as  made  some  conscience  of  what  they  did  ;  and 
from  that  day  forward,  I  must  say  to  you,  they  were  never 
beaten,  and  wherever  they  were  engaged  against  the  enemy, 
they  beat  continually.  And  truly  this  is  matter  of  praise  to 
God  :  and  it  hath  some  instruction  in  it,  to  own  men  who  are 
religious  and  godly.  And  so  many  of  them  as  are  peaceably, 
and  honestly,  and  quietly  disposed  to  live  within  rules  of 
government,  and  will  be  subject  to  those  gospel  rules  of 
obeying  magistrates — I  reckon  no  godliness  without  that 
circle  !  Without  that  the  spirit  is  diabolical — it  is  devilish — 
it  is  from  diabolical  spirits — from  the  depth  of  Satan's  wicked- 
ness. 

"  I  will  be  bold  to  apply  this  (what  I  said  to  Mr.  Hampden) 
to  our  present  purpose  ;  because  there  are  still  such  men  in  this 
nation  ;  godly  men  of  the  same  spirit,  men  that  will  not  be 
beaten  down  by  a  worldly  or  carnal  spirit  while  they  keep  their 
integrity.  And  I  deal  plainly  and  faithfully  with  you,  when  I 
say  :  I  cannot  think  that  God  would  bless  an  undertaking  of 
anything  (kingships  or  whatever  else)  which  would,  justly  and 
with  cause,  grieve  the^n.  I  know  that  very  generally  good  men 
do  not  swallow  this  title.  It  is  my  duty  and  my  conscience  to 
beg  of  you  that  there  may  be  no  hard  things  put  upon  me  ; 
things,  I  mean,  hard  to  them,  which  they  cannot  swallow.  By 
showing  a  tenderness  even  possibly  (if  it  be  their  weakness)  to 
the  weakness  of  those  who  have  integrity,  and  honesty,  and 
uprightness,   you  will  be  the   better  able  to  root  out  of  this 


192  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

nation  all  those  who  think  their  virtue  lies  in  despising  and 
opposing  authority."  * 

It  sometiracs  seems  to  the  present  writer  as  if,  amid  the  wild 
scenery  of  important  sectarian  jealousy  and  mad  intolerance, 
Cromwell  was  the  only  man  who  had  an  enlarged  sense  of  true 
freedom.  Freedom  of  conscience,  in  the  sense  of  most  persons 
of  that  time,  appears  to  have  been  that  they  should  have  the 
right  to  it  themselves,  without  any  claim  upon  them  for  its 
exercise  toward  others  ;  persecution  was  not  wrong  in  fact,  only 
it  was  wrong  when  exercised  against  themselves.  This  was 
especially  the  case  with  the  Presbyterian  party  of  that  time  ; 
but  almost  all  are  involved  in  the  same  reprobation  ;  while  we 
write  this,  upon  our  table  lies  the  treatise  of  Thomas  Edwards, 
"  A  Treatise  against  Toleration,  and  Pretended  Liberty  of 
Conscience,"  written  for  the  express  purpose  of  showing  that 
toleration  is  against  the  whole  current,  scope,  and  sense  of  all 
Scripture,  and  sets  up  the  polluted,  defiled  conscience  of  men 
above  the  Scriptures,  pleading  for  the  power  of  the  magistrate 
to  punish  heresy,  and  indeed  invoking  the  severest  statutes  of 
the  old  Jewish  law,  and  even  statutes  yet  more  severe,  as 
applicable  to  Christian  society.  No  Papist  ever  went  farther 
than  this  writer,  and  many  others  of  his  time,  in  his  attempt  to 
develop  a  perfect  science  of  persecution.  The  same  doctrines 
are  unfolded  at  greater  length  in  his  "  Gangrena,"  of  which 
the  following  passage  is  a  fair  sample  and  illustration  : 

"  A  Toleration  is  the  grand  design  of  the  devil — his  master- 
piece, and  chief  engine  he  hass  at  this  time,  to  uphold  his 
tottering  kingdom.  It  is  the  most  compendious,  ready,  sure 
way  to  destroy  a'l  religion,  lay  all  waste,  and  bring  in  all  evil. 
It  is  a  most  transcendent,  catholic,  and  fundamental  evil  for 
ttiis  kingdom  of  any  that  can  ba  imagined.  As  original  sin  is 
the  most  fundamental  sin,  haviiig  the  seed  and  spawn  of  all  in 

*  The  rea-rler  will  remember  thai  some  of  the  above  sentences  were 
quoted  in  the  chapter  on  "Crom-well  and  his  Ironsides  ;"  but  in  the 
connection  in  which  they  now  stand,  it  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as 
superfluous  that  they  are  quoted  again. 


CROMWELL  THE   PROTECTOE.  193 

it  ;  so  a  toleration  hath  all  errors  in  it,  and  all  evils.  It  is 
against  tJte  whole  stream  and  current  of  Scripture  both  in  the 
Old  and  New  Testament  ;  both  in  matters  of  faith  and  man- 
ners ;  both  general  and  particular  commands.  It  overthrows 
all  relations,  political,  ecclesiastical, '  and  economical.  And 
whereas  other  evils,  whether  of  judgment  or  practice,  be  but 
against  some  one  or  two  places  of  Scripture,  or  relation,  this  is 
against  all — this  is  the  Abaddon,  Apollyon,  the  destroyer  of  all 
religion,  the  abomination  of  all  desolation  and  astonishment, 
the  liberty  of  perdition,  and  therefore  the  devil  follows  it  night 
and  day  ;  working  miglitily  in  many  by  writing  books  for  it, 
and  other  ways  ; — all  the  devils  in  hell,  and  their  instruments, 
being  at  work  to  promote  a  toleration." 

This  is  exceedingly  pleasant  and  comfortable  writing  !  and 
it  may  give  some  idea  of  the  spirit  which  was  abroad  in  that 
time,  and  wdiich  the  Lord  Protector  felt  himself  raised  up  reso- 
lutely to  hold  in  check.  The  Fifth  Monarchy  men  constituted 
another  amiable  section,  with  Rogers  at  their  head — an  amazing 
nuisance  in  the  nation  ;  indeed,  a  catalogue  of  the  rival  sects  in 
Cromwell's  army  would  be  an  astonishing  compilation. 

Cromwell's  whole  ideas  of  religious  liberty  rose  and  ranged 
far  beyond  those  of  most  of  the  men  of  his  age.  How  impres- 
sively this  comes  out  in  his  correspondence  with  the  Scotch 
Commissioners  and  Presbyterian  clergymen  after  the  battle  of 
Dunbar.  "  You  say,"  he  writes,  "  that  you  have  just  cause 
to  regret  that  men  of  civil  employments  should  usurp  the  call- 
ing and  employment  of  the  ministry  to  the  scandal  of  the 
Reformed  Kirks.  Are  you  troubled  that  Christ  is  preached  ? 
Is  preaching  so  exclusively  your  function  ?  I  thought  the  Cove- 
nant and  these  professors  of  it  '  could  have  been  willing  that 
any  should  speak  good  of  the  name  of  Christ  ;  if  not,  it  is  no 
covenant  of  God's  approving  ;  nor  are  these  Kirks  you  mention 
in  so  much  the  spouse  of  Christ.  \Yhere  do  you  find  in  the 
Scripture  a  ground  to  warrant  such  an  assertion  that  preaching- 
is  exclusively  your  function  ?  Though  an  approbation  from 
men  hath  order  in   it,  and  may   do  well,  yet  he  that  hath  no 


194  OLIVER   CHOMWELL. 

better  warrant  than  that  hath  none  at  all.  I  hope  He  that 
ascended  up  on  high  may  give  His  gifts  to  whom  He'^leases  ; 
and  if  those  gifts  be  the  seal  of  mission,  be  not  you  envious 
though  Eldad  and  Medad  prophecy.  You  know  who  bids  us 
'  covet  earnestly  the  best  gifts,  but  chiefly  that  we  may 
prophesy  ;  '  which  the  apostle  explains  there  to  be  a  speaking 
to  instruction,  and  edification,  and  comfort  ;  which  speaking, 
the  instructed,  the  edified,  and  comforted  can  best  tell  the 
energy  and  effect  of.  Your  pretended  fear  lest  error  should 
step  in  will  be  found  to  be  an  unjust  and  unwise  jealousy  to 
deprive  a  man  of  his  natural  liberty,  upon  a  supposition  he  may 
abuse  it.  When  he  doth  abuse  it,  judge.  If  a  man  speak 
foolishly,  yet  suffer  him  gladly  because  ye  are  wise  ;  if  errone- 
ously, the  truth  more  appears  by  your  conviction  of  him. 
Stop  such  a  man's  mouth  by  sound  words  which  cannot  be 
gainsaid.  If  we  speak  blasphemously,  or  to  the  disturbance  of 
the  public  peace,  let  the  civil  magistrate  punish  him  ;  if  truly, 
rejoice  in  the  truth.  The  ministers  in  England  are  supported, 
and  have  liberty  to  preach  the  Gospel  ;  though  not  to  rail,  nor 
under  pretence  thereof,  to  overtop  the  civil  power  or  abuse  it 
as  they  please.  No  man  hath  been  troubled  in  England  or  in 
Ireland  for  preaching  the  Gospel  ;  nor  has  any  minister  been 
molested  in  Scotland  since  the  coming  of  the  army  hither. 
Then  speaking  truth  becomes  the  ministers  of  Christ."  These 
last  words  are  in  reply  to  a  charge  made  by  the  Scotch  Com- 
missioners that  Cromwell  had  prevented  the  holding  of  relig- 
ious services,  and  the  charge  very  singularly  occurs  in  reply  to 
Cromwell's  warrant  in  which  immediately  after  the  battle  of 
Dunbar  he  says,  by  his  secretary  Edward  Whalley,  "  I  have 
received  command  from  my  Lord-General  to  desire  you  to  let 
the  ministers  of  Edinburgh,  now  in  the  Castle,  know  that  they 
have  your  liberty  granted  them,  if  they  please  to  take  the 
pains  to  preach  in  their  several  churches,  and  that  my  lord  hath 
given  special  command  both  to  officers  and  soldiers,  that  they 
shall  not  in  the  least  be  molested."  But  such  liberty  as  this, 
as  our  readers  will  know,  did  not  satisfy  the  Presbyterian  mind 


CKOMWELL   THE    PKOTECTOR.  195 

of  that  day,  which  demanded  not  only  the  right  to  the  expres- 
sion of  their  own  convictions,  but  also  the  repression  of  all  who 
followed  not  with  them.  Did  not  Milton  say  of  them  that, 
"  Presbyter  was  priest  spelt  large."  Indeed,  in  that  day  there 
was  a  universal  disposition  to  persecute  and  repress  ;  it  was  not 
that  persecution,  in  itself,  was  judged  a  crime,  only  when  it 
assailed  the  order  of  particular  opinion.  Toleration  was 
regarded  by  Episcopalian  and  Presbyterian  as  an  abominable 
Erastianism,  or  latitudinarian  and  Laodicean  half-heartedness  ; 
and  Oliver  alone  stood  forth  vindicating  liberty  of  conscience 
to  all. 

In  his  fifth  recorded  speech,  delivered  on  the  l7th  of  Sep- 
tember, 1656,  we  find  him  expressing  his  opinion  strongly  as 
to  the  maintenance  of  religious  liberty,  and  the  equality  of  all  : 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  truth  :  our  practice  since  the  last  Par- 
liament hath  been  to  let  all  this  nation  see  that  whatever  pre- 
tensions to  religion  would  continue  quiet,  peaceable,  they 
should  enjoy  conscience  and  liberty  to  themselves  ;  and  not  to 
make  religion  a  pretence  for  arms  and  blood.  All  that  tends 
to  combination,  to  interests  and  factions,  we  shall  not  care  by 
the  Grace  of  God,  luhom  we  meet  withal,  though  never  so 
specious,  if  they  be  not  quiet  !  And  truly  I  am  against  all 
liberty  of  conscience  repugnant  to  this.  If  men  will  profess — 
be  they  those  under  baptism,  be  they  those  of  the  Independent 
judgment  simply,  or  of  the  Presbyterian  judgment — in  the 
name  of  God,  encourage  them  so  long  as  they  do  plainly  con- 
tinue to  be  thankful  to  God,  and  to  make  use  of  the  liberty 
given  them  to  enjoy  their  own  consciences  !  For  as  it  was 
said  to-day  [in  Dr.  Owen's  sermon  before  Parliament],  un- 
doubtedly '  this  is  the  peculiar  interest  all  this  while  contended 
for.' 

"  Men  who  believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  walk  in  a  profession 
answerable  to  that  Faith  ;  men  who  believe  in  the  remission  of 
sins  through  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  free  justification  by  the 
blood  of  Christ  ;  who  live  upon  the  grace  of  God — are  members 
of  Jesus  Christ,  and  are  to  Him  the  apple  of  His  eye.      Who- 


196  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

ever  has  this  Faith,  let  his  form  be  what  it  will  ;  he  walking 
peaceably  without  prejudice  to  others  under  other  forms — it  is 
a  debt  due  to  God  and  Christ  ;  and  He  will  require  it,  if  that 
Christian  may  not  enjoy  his  liberty. 

"  If  a  man  of  one  form  will  be  trampling  upon  the  heels  of 
another  form  ;  if  an  Independent,  for  example,  will  despise 
him  who  is  under  baptism,  and  will  revile  him,  and  reproach 
him  and  provoke  him — I  will  not  suffer  it  in  him. 
God  gave  us  hearts  and  spirits  to  keep  things  equal.  Which, 
truly  I  must  profess  to  you  hath  been  my  temper.  I  have  had 
some  boxes  on  the  ear,  and  rebukes — on  the  one  hand  and  on 
the  other.  I  have  borne  my  reproach  ;  but  I  have,  through 
God's  mercy,  not  been  unhappy  in  hindering  any  one  religion 
to  improve  upon  another." 

He  was  constantly  under  the  necessity  of  so  watching  over 
the  sacred  rights  of  religious  liberty,  that  as  we  know  he  some- 
times had  to  interpose  his  authority  to  protect  and  guard  ;  so 
again  he  had  to  interpose  his  severe  condemnation  against 
words  and  measures  which  appeared  to  him  to  be  fatal  to  the 
rights  of  conscience.  It  is  thus  we  find  him  speaking  on  the 
22d  of  January,  1655,  when  he  summoned  the  House  to  meet 
him  in  the  Painted  Chamber  :  "  Is  there  not  yet  upon  the 
spirits  of  men  a  strange  itching  ?  Nothing  will  satisfy  them 
unless  they  can  press  their  finger  upon  their  brethren's  con- 
sciences, to  pinch  them  there.  To  do  this  was  no  part  of  the 
contest  we  had  with  the  common  adversary.  And  wherein 
consisted  this  more  tlian  in  obtaining  that  liberty  from  the 
tyranny  of  the  bishops  to  all  species  of  Protestants  to  worship 
God  according  to  their  own  light  and  consciences  ?  For  want 
of  which  many  of  our  brethren  forsook  their  native  countries 
to  seek  their  bread  from  stranojers,  and  to  live  in  howlinfj  wil- 
dernesses  ;  and  for  which  also  many  that  remained  here  were 
imprisoned,  and  otherwise  abused  and  made  the  scorn  of  the 
nation.  Those  that  were  sound  in  the  Faith,  how  proper  was 
it  for  them  to  labor  for  liberty,  for  a  just  liberty,  that  men 
might  not  be  trampled  upon  for  their  consciences  !     Had  not 


CROMWELL   THE    PROTECTOR.  197 

they  themselves  labored,  but  lately,  under  the  weight  of  perse- 
cution ?  And  was  it  fit  for  thoni  to  sit  heavy  upon  others  ?  Is 
it  ingenuous  to  ask  liberty,  and  not  give  it  ?  .  .  .  What 
greater  hypocrisy  than  for  those  who  were  oppressed  by  the 
bishops  to  become  the  greatest  oppressors  themselves,  so  soon 
as  their  yoke  was  removed  ?  I  could  wish  that  they  who  call 
for  liberty  now  also  had  not  too  much  of  that  spirit,  if  the 
power  were  in  their  hands  !  As  for  profane  persons,  blas- 
phemous, such  as  preach  sedition  ;  the  contentious  railers,  evil- 
speakers,  who  seek  by  evil  words  to  corrupt  good  manners, 
persons  of  loose  conversation — punishment  from  the  civil  mag- 
istrate ought  to  meet  with  these." 

But  we  must  give  a  few  swift  glances  into  the  inner  life  of 
this  great  heart — the  domestic  life.  He  has  been  assailed  here 
too.  We  love  to  look  at  Cromwell  after  the  hard,  scarred  face 
and  the  strong  mailed  hand  have  revealed  themselves.  We 
love  to  think  of  him  as  husband,  father,  grandfather,  and 
master  of  a  family.  "  His  letters  reveal  all,"  says  Eliot  War- 
burton,  when  he  mentions  the  discovery  of  the  letters  of 
Charles  I.,  after  Naseby,  and  the  perfidy  they  revealed,  trans- 
forming ever  after  the  phrase,  "  On  the  word  of  a  king,"  into 
the  synonym  of  a  lie.  "  And,"  says  that  lively  and  prejudiced 
writer  (we  have  quoted  this  expression  already),  "  if  all  the 
letters  of  the  dark  Cromwell  could  have  been  opened,  what 
would  they  have  revealed  ?"  Well,  they  all  have  been  discov- 
ered, all  have  been  opened  ;  and  we  suppose  never,  in  the 
history  of  man,  has  there  been  presented  such  a  transparent 
wholeness.  It  is  one  mirror  of  simple  nobleness  :  every  little 
note,  and  every  family  epistle,  and  every  letter  to  the  state 
officers,  all  reveal  the  same  man.  "  A  single  eye,  and  a  whole 
body  full  of  light."  Of  course,  in  his  letters  as  in  his 
speeches,  he  says  no  more  than  he  has  to  say  ;  he  never  labors 
for  any  expression.  He  is  not  a  man  who  can  use  a  flowing 
imaginative  diction.  His  words  are  strong,  stiff,  unbendable 
beings,  but  they  convey  a  meaning  and  speak  out  a  full,  deter- 
mined heart, 


196  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

ever  has  this  Faith,  let  his  forin  be  what  it  will  ;  he  walking 
peaceably  without  prejudice  to  others  under  other  forms — it  is 
a  debt  due  to  God  and  Christ  ;  and  He  will  require  it,  if  that 
Christian  may  not  enjoy  his  liberty. 

"  If  a  man  of  one  form  will  be  trampling  upon  the  heels  of 
another  form  ;  if  an  Independent,  for  example,  will  despise 
liim  who  is  under  baptism,  and  will  revile  him,  and  reproach 
him  and  provoke  him — I  will  not  suffer  it  in  him. 
God  gave  us  hearts  and  spirits  to  keep  things  equal.  Which, 
truly  I  must  profess  to  you  hath  been  my  temper.  I  have  had 
some  boxes  on  the  ear,  and  rebukes — on  the  one  hand  and  on 
the  other,  I  have  borne  my  reproach  ;  but  I  have,  through 
God's  mercy,  not  been  unhappy  in  hindering  any  one  religion 
to  improve  upon  another." 

He  was  constantly  under  the  necessity  of  so  watching  over 
the  sacred  rights  of  religious  liberty,  that  as  we  know  he  some- 
times had  to  interpose  his  authority  to  protect  and  guard  ;  so 
again  he  had  to  interpose  his  severe  condemnation  against 
words  and  measures  which  appeared  to  him  to  be  fatal  to  the 
rights  of  conscience.  It  is  thus  we  find  him  speaking  on  the 
22d  of  January,  1655,  when  he  summoned  the  House  to  meet 
hnn  in  the  Painted  Chamber  :  "  Is  there  not  yet  upon  the 
spirits  of  men  a  strange  itching  ?  Nothing  will  satisfy  them 
unless  they  can  press  their  finger  upon  their  brethren's  con- 
sciences, to  pinch  them  there.  To  do  this  was  no  part  of  the 
contest  we  had  with  the  common  adversary.  And  wherein 
consisted  this  more  than  in  obtaining  that  liberty  from  the 
tyranny  of  the  bishops  to  all  species  of  Protestants  to  worship 
God  according  to  their  own  light  and  consciences  ?  For  want 
of  which  many  of  our  brethren  forsook  their  native  countries 
to  seek  their  bread  from  strangers,  and  to  live  in  howling  wil- 
dernesses ;  and  for  which  also  many  that  remained  here  were 
imprisoned,  and  otherwise  abused  and  made  the  scorn  of  the 
nation.  Those  that  were  sound  in  the  Faith,  how  proper  was 
it  for  them  to  labor  for  liberty,  for  a  just  liberty,  that  men 
might  not  be  trampled  upon  for  their  consciences  !     Had  not 


CROMWELL   THE    PROTECTOR.  197 

they  themselves  labored,  but  lately,  under  the  weight  of  perse- 
cution ?  And  was  it  fit  for  them  to  sit  heavy  upon  others  ?  Is 
it  ingenuous  to  ask  liberty,  and  not  give  it  ?  .  .  .  What 
greater  hypocrisy  than  for  those  who  were  oppressed  by  the 
bishops  to  become  the  greatest  oppressors  themselves,  so  soon 
as  their  yoke  was  removed  ?  I  could  wish  that  they  who  call 
for  liberty  now  also  had  not  too  much  of  that  spirit,  if  the 
power  were  in  their  hands  !  As  for  profane  persons,  blas- 
phemous, such  as  preach  sedition  ;  the  contentious  railers,  evil- 
speakers,  who  seek  by  evil  words  to  corrupt  good  manners, 
persons  of  loose  conversation — punishment  from  the  civil  mag- 
istrate ought  to  meet  with  these." 

But  we  must  give  a  few  swift  glances  into  the  inner  life  of 
this  great  heart — the  domestic  life.  He  has  been  assailed  here 
too.  We  love  to  look  at  Cromwell  after  the  hard,  scarred  face 
and  the  strong  mailed  hand  have  revealed  themselves.  We 
love  to  think  of  him  as  husband,  father,  grandfather,  and 
master  of  a  family.  "  His  letters  reveal  all,"  says  Eliot  War- 
burton,  when  he  mentions  the  discovery  of  the  letters  of 
Charles  I.,  after  Naseby,  and  the  perfidy  they  revealed,  trans- 
forming ever  after  the  phrase,  "  On  the  word  of  a  king,"  into 
the  synonym  of  a  lie.  "  And,"  says  that  lively  and  prejudiced 
writer  (we  have  quoted  this  expression  already),  "  if  all  the 
letters  of  the  dark  Cromwell  could  have  been  opened,  what 
would  they  have  revealed  ?"  Well,  they  all  have  been  discov- 
ered, all  have  been  opened  ;  and  we  suppose  never,  in  the 
history  of  man,  has  there  been  presented  such  a  transparent 
wholeness.  It  is  one  mirror  of  simple  nobleness  :  every  little 
note,  and  every  family  epistle,  and  every  letter  to  the  state 
officers,  all  reveal  the  same  man.  '*  A  single  eye,  and  a  whole 
body  full  of  light."  Of  course,  in  his  letters  as  in  his 
speeches,  he  says  no  more  than  he  has  to  say  ;  he  never  labors 
for  any  expression.  He  is  not  a  man  who  can  use  a  flowing 
imaginative  diction.  His  words  are  strong,  stiff,  unbendable 
beings,  but  they  convey  a  meaning  and  speak  out  a  full,  deter- 
mined heart. 


200  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

when  he  went  there.  We  know  that  scholarship  was  expelled  ; 
that  it  was  the  haunt  of  Comus  and  his  crew  ;  and  we  know 
what  lie  made  it.  It  is  to  his  immortal  honor  that  the  Biblia 
Pohjfjlotta  Waltoni,  perhaps  the  most  valuable  and  important 
biblical  book  ever  issued  from  the  British  press,  owed  the 
existence  of  its  gigantic  volumes  to  Cromwell.  It  was  a  most 
precious  compendium  of  Scriptural  criticism  and  interpretation. 
Everything  of  that  time,  previously  attempted,  had  been  per- 
formed for  the  Catholic  Church,  iind  at  the  expense  of  Catholic 
princes.  No  Protestant  prince  had  even  been  able  to  under- 
take such  a  work.  Dr.  Owen  at  first  opposed  it,  looking  upon 
it  with  suspicion.  It  is  very  characteristic  that  Cromwell, 
respecting  Owen  as  he  did,  encouraged  it,  assisted  in  defraying 
the  expense  of  publishing  it,  and  admitted  five  thousand  reams 
of  paper  free  of  duty,  and  so  saved  the  author  from  loss  by  its 
publication.  It  was  published  during  the  Protectorate,  and 
dedicated  to  Cromwell.  But  its  mean  and  dastardly  compiler, 
upon  the  return  of  Charles  Stuart,  erased  the  dedication  to  the 
man  who  had  so  substantially  aided  him,  and  inserted  that  of 
the  king,  who  cared  neither  for  the  project,  its  scholarship,  nor 
the  Bible.  He  delia;hted  to  ffather  round  him  o-reat  minds. 
John  Milton  was  his  familiar  friend  and  Latin  or  Foreign  Secre- 
tary ;  he  encouraged  the  young  genius  of  honest  Andrew 
Marvell,  the  patriot  and  the  poet  ;  Ilartlib,  a  native  of  Poland, 
the  bosom  friend  of  Milton,  and  one  of  the  foremost  advocates 
of  a  wise  education,  was  honored  and  pensioned  by  him  ;  he 
■was  the  steadfast  friend,  notwithstanding  episcopacy,  of  Arch- 
bishop Usher  ;  and  far  removed  as  his  own  sentiments  were 
from  Universalisra,  he  shielded  from  persecution  John  Biddle, 
called  the  Father  of  Unitarians,  and  in  consideration  of  his 
worth,  even  granted  him  a  pension  of  one  hundred  crowns  a 
year.  Even  Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  Royalist  as  he  was  found 
himself  at  the  Protector's  table,  who  no  doubt  enjoyed  the 
mystical  wanderings  of  his  mind,  and  certainly  did  honor  to  his 
literary  merits.  He  invited  to  his  table,  sometimes,  men  dis- 
affected to  himself — notablv  more  than  once  he  invited  several 


CKOMWELL   THE    PKOTECTOR.  201 

of  the  nobility,  and  after  dinner  told  them,  to  their  surprise, 
where  they  had  lately  been,  what  company  they  had  lately 
kejit,  and  advised  them  the  next  time  they  drank  the  health  of 
Charles  Stuart  and  the  memebrs  of  the  royal  family,  to  do  it  a 
little  more  secretly,  as  the  knowledge  might  not  be  so  safe  with 
some  as  with  him.  Such  things  as  these  might  be  mentioned 
to  the  too  great  extension  of  this  chapter,  but  from  every 
aspect  it  seems  the  character  of  a  reverent  and  faithful  man 
shines  out  upon  us.  In  one  of  his  speeches,  he  says,  "  I  have 
lived  the  latter  part  of  my  life  in,  if  I  may  say  so,  the  fire,  in 
the  midst  of  troubles  ;  but,  truly,  my  comfort  in  all  my  life  hath 
been  that  the  burdens  which  have  lain  heavy  on  me  were  laid 
on  me  by  the  hand  of  God."  It  is  often  said,  a  man  can  only 
do  a  man's  work  ;  but,  as  the  man's  work  was  very  great,  so 
was  the  man  great  who  was  set  to  perform  it,  and  of  him  that 
is  especially  true  which  the  poet  Browning  has  so  well  taught 
in  that  which  is,  perhaps,  his  greatest  poem,  "  Sordello,"  that 
"  Ends  accomplished,  turn  to  means." 
To  live  is  indeed  to  strive,  but  the  chief  idea  of  life  is  not 
always  realized  in  the  sense  of  the  mere  realist  ;  his  sense  of 
the  thing  done  is  limited  by  that  which  stands  present,  com- 
plete, and  accomplished  to  the  eye  ;  to  him,  therefore,  all  fail- 
ure or  incompleteness  is  baffled  or  foiled  existence.  But  the 
great  poet,  to  Avhom  we  have  referred,  teaches  us  that  it  is  not 
so.  There  is  a  world  of  work  which  is  out  of  sight,  which  has 
told  upon,  and  borne  along,  the  individual  soul,  and  it  may  be 
the  soul  of  the  age  or  ages,  along  with  it ;  and  hence  at  the 
close  of  Cromwell's  day,  or  life,  as  with  Sordello,  so  it  may  be 
yet  more  truly  said  of  him — 

"  The  real  way  seemed  made  up  of  all  the  ways. 
Mood  after  mood  of  the  one  mind  in  him  ; 
Tokens  of  the  existence,  bright  or  dim, 
Of  a  transcendent  and  all-bracing  sense, 
Demanding  only  outward  influence  : 
A  soul  above  his  soul, 

Power  to  uplift  his  power,  this  moon's  control 
Over  the  sea  depths.' ' 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

FOREIGN    POLICY    AND    POWER    OF    CROMWELL. 

Referring  to  the  foreign  policy  of  Cromwell,  the  wisdom 
of  which  several  wise  little  critics  have  chosen  to  call  in  ques- 
tion, it  will  be  in  the  memory  of  our  readers  how  he  once  said, 
"  He  hoped  he  should  make  the  name  of  an  Englishman  as 
great  as  ever  that  of  a  Roman  had  been."  It  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  England  had  never  before  so  overawed  the  nations 
of  Europe  as  during  the  reign  of  Cromwell.  Perhaps  some 
readers  will  say,  What  right  has  any  nation,  or  any  man,  to 
overawe  other  nations  or  other  princes  ?  This  is  very  plausi- 
ble, buf  in  Cromwell's  case  it  does  not  correctly  state  the  mat- 
ter. It  should  be  remembered  that  in  that  age,  in  Cromwell's 
time, .the  strong  nations  of  Europe  were  set  upon  crushing  the 
principles  of  freedom  as  represented  by  Protestant  principles 
and  in  Protestant  states.  France  and  Spain  were  almost  equally 
obnoxious  to  freedom,  but  in  those  days  Spain  was  incompara- 
bly tlie  strongest  power  ;  true,  her  power  was  on  the  wane,  but 
she  had  the  traditional  inheritance  of  amazing  empire,  and  she 
had  the  actual  possession  of  the  greatest  and  most  wealthy 
colonies.  The  cruelty  of  lier  intolerance  to  Protestantism,  and 
to  all  civil  and  religious  liberty,  had  been  written  literally  in 
letters  of  lire  and  blood,  in  the  stakes  and  tortures  of  the 
Inquisition,  in  the  more  than  decimation,  the  destruction,  of 
towns  and  villages  ;  nor  was  it  so  long  since  that  the  huge 
Armada  was  floated  against  England  in  the  name  of  all  papistry 
and  despotism.  All  Cromwell's  conduct  shows  the  good  will 
he  had  to,  and  the  sympathy  he  had  with,  the  Netherlands. 
It  is  quite  likely  that  France  and  her  statesmen  were  by  no 
means  charming  to  him  ;  but  he  judged  Spain  to  be  as  more 
worthy  of  his  sword  in  virtue  of  her  own  more  equal  power,  so 
also  more  deserving  of  his  vengeance  as  the  oppressor  of  the 


FOREiGK   POLICY   AKt)   I'OWElll   OF   CROMWELL.        ^03 

saints  of  the  Lord,  cand  the  cruel  foe  to  every  form  of  freedom. 
One  of  the  great  instruments  he  chose  to  this  end  is  one  of 
tlio  most  iUustrious  names  in  the  annals  of  the  English  navy, 
Robert  Blake,  Admiral  Blake.  What  a  splendid  halo  of 
chivalric  memories  gathers  round  the  name  of  that  great  com- 
mander !  there  is  scarcely  another  name  in  our  nautical  annals 
so  fresh,  so  full  of  all  the  romance  and  poetry  of  the  sea.  One 
of  the  greatest  of  Cromwell's  contemporaries,  we  must  devote 
a  page  to  the  story  of  the  life  of  the  man  who  did  as  much  as 
any  of  his  time  to  make  England  respected  and  feared  by  her 
hereditary  foes. 

Robert  Blake  was  born  at  Bridgewater,  the  son  of  a  respect- 
able Somersetshire  merchant.  We  believe  the  old  house  is  still 
standing,  and  shown,  where  he  first  drew  breath  ;  its  gardens 
run  to  the  river,  and  its  windows  look  out  on  the  Quantock 
Hills.  Moreover,  his  young  eyes  early  became  familiar  with 
the  masts  of  the  vessels  of  many  nations,  suggesting  visions  of 
the  distant  purple  seas  and  recently  discovered  isles.  He  came 
of  a  Puritan  stock  ;  he  received  a  university  education,  and  is 
said  to  have  fjone  farther  in  the  knowledo;c  of  classics  and 
books  than  has  usually  fallen  to  the  lot  of  the  sons  of  the  sea. 
Blake  in  his  early  life  appears  to  have  been  a  thorough  Puritan, 
and  also  very  much  of  a  Republican.  He  was  returned  mem- 
ber for  Bridgewater  to  what  is  called  the  Short  Parliament, 
which  met  on  Monday,  the  13th  of  April,  1640  ;  and  he  no 
doubt  heard  the  pleasant  words  with  which  the  Lord  Keeper 
Finch  opened  that  Parliament  :  "  His  Majesty's  kingly  resolu- 
tions are  seated  in  the  ark  of  his  sacred  breast,  and  it  were  a 
presumption  of  too  high  a  nature  for  any  Uzzah  uncalled  to 
touch  it  :  yet  His  Majesty  is  now  pleased  to  lay  by  the  shining- 
beams  of  majesty,  as  Phoebus  did  to  Phtcton,  that  the  distance 
between  sovereignty  and  subjection  should  not  bar  you  of  that 
filial  freedom  of  access  to  his  person  and  counsels."  But  the 
time  had  come  when  this  style  of  language  was  no  longer  to  be 
endured  by  the  Commons,  and  so  they  determined,  before  tluy 
would  give   to  the   king  any    supplies,  they   would   seek   the 


204  OLIVER   CilOMWELL. 

redress  of   many   grievances.     The  astonished    king  dissolved 
this  Parliament  in  little  more  than  a  fortnight,  and  then  in  the 
same  year  assembled  the  Long  Parliament,  of   which,  however, 
Blake  was  not  returned  member  until   1645,  when  he  took  his 
seat  for  Taunton,  and  then  when  the  war  broke  out,  and  the 
king  raised  his  standard  at  Nottingham,  while  Cromwell  mar- 
shalled his  Ironsides  in  Huntingdonshire,  Blake  hurried  down 
to  the  Western   counties,  and   with   celerity   raised  a   troop  of 
drao-oons,   with  which  he   dashed   to  and   fro,   and  did  good 
service  to  the  cause  of  the  Parliament   in  the  West.     He  soon 
rose  hio-h  in  the  esteem  of  those  for  whom  he  was  acting  ;  he 
was  appointed  colonel,  and  also  one  of  the  Committee  of  Ways 
and   Means   for   Somerset.     To   those   who   have   only  known 
Blake  as  one  of  our  great  English  sea-kings,  it  seems  singular 
to  think  of   him  as  a  commander  on  the  field.     His  conflicts 
seem  to  have   been   in   the  West  with  Prince  Maurice,  Prince 
Rupert's  brother.      He  forced  his  way^  into  his  native  town  of 
Bridgewater,  and  a  pathetic   story  tells  how  there  he  lost  his 
brother,  Samuel  Blake,  in  a  skirmish.      He  defended  the  little 
seaport  town  of  Lyme  besieged  by  Maurice,  and  he  compelled 
the  Prince  to  give   up   the   siege   after  the  loss  of  2000  men. 
He  attempted  to  force  Plymouth  ;  and  he  did  relieve  Taunton 
when   a  sudden   attack   had   been   made  upon  that  town,  the 
refuge  of  a  nuiltitude  of   Puritans  of  that  region.     The  whole 
region  round  Taunton   appears   to  have  been  devastated  and 
desolated    by    Goring's     ferocious    troops,     generally     called 
"  Goring's  crew."     Blake  summarily  scattered  these  Royalist 
ruflians,  for  which  he  received  the  thanks  of  Parliament  and  a 
special  vote  of  £500.      It  was  indeed  a  great  triumph.     This 
was  not   long   before  the  battle  of  Naseby  ;  then  the  king's 
game   was   up,    and   Blake   appears  for  a   short  time  to  have 
retreated  into  the  quietude  of  private  life. 

Blake  was  a  man  who  had  no  disposition  to  take  upon  him- 
self the  management  or  direction  of  the  complications  of  State. 
JBe  was  a  moderate  man,  heartily  anti-royalist,  but  with  no 
wish  to  see  the  king  beheaded.     All  the  accounts  that  we  have 


1"*0REIGN    POLICY   AND   POWER   OF   CROMWELL.       205 

of  hiin  set  him  before  us  in  a  pleasant  and  beautiful  ligLt.  He 
was  a  Puritan,  but  not  morose  ;  a  cheerful  country  gentleman, 
orderly  and  pious,  ready  with  good  and  holy  words  when  such 
were  needed  in  his  household,  but  fond  of  a  hearty  laugh,  a 
cu[)  of  sack,  and  a  pipe  of  tobacco  ;  a  straightforward  man, 
who  very  likely  despised  all  high-flying  notions,  and  only 
wished  to  see  Government  settled  in  such  a  manner  as  should 
have  been  for  the  good  of  all.  Just  the  soit  of  man,  says  one 
writer,  in  commenting  upon  him,  as  would  have  orderec' 
Maximilien  Robespierre  into  the  stocks,  had  he  made  h' 
appearance  talking  any  of  his  fine-spun  orations,  in  his  sky-b'  e 
coat,  in  the  good  old  town  of  Taunton. 

Such  was  Robert  Blake,  when,  at  fifty  years  of  age,  he  svas 
called  forth  to  an  entirely  new  world  of  work,  and  from  a  gen- 
eral on  the  field  to  tread  the  deck  as  an  admiral  on  the  seas. 
Excellent  as  the  service  was  which  he  liad  rendered  as  a  soldier, 
we  should  scarcely  have  heard  his  name  but  that  he  added  to 
all  that  had  gone  before  the  renown  of  a  sailor  whose  name 
shines  as  an  equal  by  the  side  of  Drake,  Nelson,  Collingwood, 
and  Hood  ;  and  yet  how  strange  it  seems  that  he  should  rise  to 
the  rank  of  a  first-rate  English  seaman  after  his  fiftieth  year  ! 
strange  that  he  should  have  been  equal  to  such  victorious 
fights  ! — and  yet,  probably,  in  our  day  he  would  not  have 
passed  either  a  civil  or  an  uncivil  service  examination. 

It  has  been  the  fashion  with  some  writers  to  assert  that 
Cromwell  and  Blake  were  hostile  to  each  other.  It  is  perfectly 
certain  that  the  reverse  was  quite  the  case,  Blake  and  Cromwell 
were  friends  ;  we  read  of  the  great  pair  dining  together  at 
Cromwell's  house  after  he  became  Protector.  The  pursuits  of 
the  two  men  were  different  :  Blake  did  not  trouble  himself 
with  governing  troublesome  people,  his  work  lay  in  fighting 
England's  enemies  and  maintaining  England's  honor  on  the 
seas.  First  we  find  him  in  conflict  again  with  an  old  land  foe, 
Prince  Rupert,  who  had  also  betaken  himself  to  the  waters. 
Blake  followed  him  to  the  Tagus,  trailing  after  him  the  Com- 
monwealth's men-of-war  with  their  homely  names  of  the  Tiger, 


206  OLIVEli  CROMWELL. 

the  Tenth  Whelp,  John,  Signet  ;  homely  vessels  no  doubt,  but 
they  succeeded  in  scattering  Rupert's  vessels  with  their  finer 
names,  and  the  Prince,  with  the  fragments  of  his  fleet,  hurried 
away  to  the  West  Indies.     Blake  appears  to  have  soon  found 
himself  as  much  at  home   inside  the  oak  bulwarks,  the  black 
riffo-ino:,  and  the  maze  of  masts,  as  behind  the  trenches  or  at 
the  head  of  dragoons.     He  acquitted  himself  so  well  that  the 
Council    of   State,    after  this  his  first   expedition,    made   him 
Warden  of  the  Cinque  Ports.     Blake  became  a  naval  reformer  : 
he  brought  it  about  that  his  men  were  better  paid,  and  received 
a  more  equitable  distribution  of  prize-money  ;  also  he  appears 
to  have  fought  for  and  obtained  better  diet  for  his  men,  good 
provisions  instead  of  the  too  often  rank   and  foul  food  pro- 
vided for  them.     It  was  beneath  Blake's  pennon  that  England 
first  asserted  the  supremacy  of  the  seas,  a  supremacy  which  she 
had  soon  to  lower  when  Cromwell's  pleasant  successor  ascended 
the  English  throne.      We  are  not  telling  the  story  of  Blake, 
and  it  is  not  therefore  necessary  that  we  should  dwell  upon  the 
conflict  with    Holland    and   the   Netherlands,    represented   by 
Blake   and  Van  Tromp  ;  and  when  at  first,  off  the  Ness,  in 
Essex,    Blake    was   worsted.    Van    Tromp    proclaimed  himself 
master  of  the  Channel,  and  passed  the  English  coast  in  triumph 
with  a  broom  at  the  masthead.     Blake,  as  we    know,  called 
for  inquiry  from  the  State  into  the  conduct  of  several  of  his 
captains,  and  with  a  fleet  which  was  afterward  fitted  out,  he 
quite  retrieved  the  English  navy  from  its  momentary  disgrace, 
and  added  immensely  to  his  country's  glory  and  fame.     This 
was  the  occasion  on  which  the  old  ti-adition  says  that  Blake 
mounted  a  horsewhip  as  his  standard,  as  he  swept  the  Channel, 
in  humorous  response  to  Van  Tromp's  standard  of  the  broom. 
But  it  is  farther  away  from  home  we  have  to  follow  him,  to 
track  the  splendor  of  his  great  achievements.     Throughout  the 
Papal  States  and   along  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean,  the 
people  trembled  at  the  name  of  the  heretic  Admiral  and  his 
line    of    conquering    ships.      At    Leghorn    he    demanded    and 
obtained  compensation  in  money  for  the  owners  of  vessels  that 


FOREIGN    POLICY   AND    POWER   OF   CROMWELL.        207 

had  been  sold  tliere  by  tbe  Princes  Rupert  and  Maurice  ;  then 
he  demanded  and  received  compensation  from  the  Pope,  Alex- 
ander VII.,  for  vessels  sold  by  the  same  princes  in  Roman 
ports  ;  he  received  on  board  his  sixty-gun  ship,  the  George, 
20,000  pistoles,  which  his  demands  had  produced  from  the 
Holy  See.  He  urged  freedom  of  worship  for  Protestants  on 
the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  ;  then  sailed  away  to  the  coast  of 
Africa  to  have  a  word  with  the  Dey  of  Tunis.  From  him  he 
demanded  compensation  for  prizes  taken  from  the  English. 
The  Dey  refused  ;  Blake  retired,  put  all  his  vessels  in  order, 
returned,  cannonaded  all  the  forts,  and  set  fire  to  the  corsair 
ships.  Then  away  he  sailed  for  Tripoli,  where  he  found  his 
fame  had  preceded  him  ;  the  Dey  there  was  manageable  ;  and 
when,  after  this,  he  called  in  at  Tunis  again,  he  found  the  Bey 
of  Tunis  so  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  his  mind  that  he  was  glad 
to  conclude  a  treaty  of  peace  to  save  himself  from  farther 
molestation.  In  the  midst  of  all  these  arduous  conquests  he 
was  tired  and  ill,  and  he  writes  affectingly  to  the  Protector, 
describing  some  trials  his  brave  sailors  had  to  bear,  and  lightly 
referring  to  his  own  sufferings  :  "  Our  only  comfort  is  that  we 
have  a  God  to  lean  upon,  although  we  walk  in  darkness,  and 
see  no  light.  I  shall  not  trouble  Your  Highness  with  any  com- 
plaints of  myself,  of  the  indisposition  of  my  body,  or  troubles 
of  my  mind  ;  my  many  infirmities  will  one  day,  I  doubt  not, 
sufficiently  plead  for  me,  or  against  me,  so  that'  I  may  be  free 
of  so  great  a  burden,  consoling  myself  in  the  mean  time  in  the 
Lord,  and  in  the  firm  purpose  of  my  heart,  with  all  faithfulness 
and  sincerity,  to  discharge  the  trust  reposed  in  me." 

Soon  after  this  he  ran  home  to  refit  and  to  be  in  more 
thorough  readiness  for  the  great  silver  fleets  which  were  crossing 
the  Atlantic  from  the  Spanish  colonies.  And  now  followed, 
when  he  again  set  sail,  his  most  remarkable  trium[)hs.  It  was 
against  those  splendid  Spanish  galleons  and  India-built  mer- 
chantmen, their  holds  full  of  the  choicest  products  of  the  far 
West,  gold  and  silver,  pearls  and  precious  stones,  hides, 
indigo,  cochineal,  sugar,  and  tobacco,  that  he  and  his  men  set* 


208  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

forth  ;    and  abundant  were  the  treasures  of  sparkling  silver- 
pieces  which  fell  into  the  horny  hands  of  Blake's  men.      He 
made  his  first  seizure  on  this  venture  and  sent  it  home  ;  the 
bullion  was  conveyed  to  London,  under  the  charge  of  soldiers, 
and  eight-and-thirty  wagon-loads  of  silver  reeled  along  through- 
the  streets  of  London  to  the  Tower,  amid  the  cheerful  applause 
of  the  multitude.     Blake  did  not  come  home  :  he  was  still  out 
on  those  distant  seas  waiting  for,  and  ready  to  pounce  upon, 
more  prizes.      Perhaps  many  of  our  readers  will  think  it  a  diffi- 
cult thing  to   conceive  of  this  warlike  sailor  as  a  God-fearing 
man,  following  up  all  this  mischief  against  the   Spaniards  in 
the  fear  of  the  Lord  ;  but  it  was  even  so,  not  an  oath  was  heard 
on  board  his  vessel  or  vessels,  the  ordinances  of  religion  were 
followed  lip   punctiliously.      AVhy   not  ?    he   was  fighting  the 
cause  of  freedom  and  faith  against  popery  and  absolutism,  and 
their  persecutions  ;  and,  whereas  Spain  and  Rome  had  made 
Protestants  everywhere  tremble,  this  Gustavus  of  the  seas,  in 
turn,  made  Spain  and  Rome  to  tremble,   and  perhaps  stirred 
some  new  thoughts  about  Protestant  heroism  within  their  cruel 
souls.      lie  appears  to  have  seen  plainly  the  sphere  in  which  he 
had  to  play  his  part  :   "  It  is  not  for  us, ' '  said  he,  ' '  to  mind 
State  affairs,  but  to  keep  the  foreigners  from  fooling  us,"  and 
his  name  became  as  terrible  to  the  foes  of  England  on  the  sea 
as  Cromwell's  on  the  land.     Numerous  and  rapid  were  his  vic- 
tories over  Holland,  and  Spain,   and  Portugal.      It  is  melan- 
choly to  linger  over   the   achievements   of  warriors  ;  but  it  is 
certainly    a    source    of    pride    and    triumph    to    feel   how   the 
victories  of  Blake  contributed  to  the  peace  of  the  world.      He 
swept  the  Mediterranean  clear  of  pirates,  and  enabled  the  com- 
merce of  Europe  and  the  world  to  perform  its  work  in  that  day 
in  silence  and  quiet  and  respect.     The  Deys  of  Tunis,  Algiers, 
and  Tripoli  were,  startled  from  the  slumber  of  their  despotism, 
as  the  noise  of  Blake's  triuuiphant  career  rolled  on  their  ears  ; 
and  great  must  have   been   the   astonishment  of  England,  and 
especially  that  part  of  England  contained  in  the  cities  of  Lon- 
don and  Westminster,  to  behold  again  the  thirty-eight  wagon- 


FOREIGN    POLICY    AND    POWER    OF    CROMWELL.        201) 

loads  of  silver  rumbling  over  the  stones  of  the  old  city,  all 
taken  by  Blake  from  the  king  of  Spain  at  Santa  Cruz,  amid 
"  whirlwinds  of  fire  and  iron  hail,"  beneath  the  old  Peak  of 
Teneriffe.  He  had,  before  that,  compelled  the  Dutch  to  do 
homage  to  England,  as  the  Mistress  of  the  Seas,  defeating  Van 
Tromp  and  De  Ruyter.  The  Protector  sent  to  him,  after  his 
last  victory,  a  jewelled  ring  of  the  value  of  £500,  and  great 
would  have  been  the  acclamation  greeting  him  on  his  return  to 
his  native  land.  But  it  was  not  decreed  that  he  should  stand 
upon  her  shores  again.  He  returned  homeward,  and  coveted 
a  sio-ht  of  old  Eno-land's  shores  once  more,  and  once  more  he 
beheld  them — and  that  was  all.  He  expired  as  his  fleet  was 
entering  Plymouth  Sound,  on  the  27th  of  August,  1657.  A 
true  model  of  a  British  sailor — he  died  poor.  After  all  his 
triumphs  and  opportunities  of  accumulating  w-ealth,  he  was  not 
worth  £500  !  A  magnificent  public  funeral,  and  a  resting- 
place  in  Henry  VH. 's  chapel  was  decreed  for  him  ;  and  there 
were  few  in  the  country  who  did  not  feel  that  his  strength  had 
been  a  mighty  bulwark  to  the  land.  But  when  Charles  H. 
returned  to  the  country,  the  purely  national  glory  which  sur- 
rounded the  memory  of  this  great  English  hero  did  not  exempt 
his  body  from  the  indecent  and  inhuman  indignities  which  were 
heaped  upon  the  remains  of  the  great  Republicans.  By  the 
king's  command  the  remains  of  this,  perliaps  the  greatest  Eng- 
lish Admiral  that  ever  walked  a  deck,  were  torn  from  the  tomb 
and  cast  into  a  pit  in  St.  Margaret's  churchyard.  "  There," 
says  Wood,  "  it  lies,  enjoying  no  other  monument  than  what 
is  reared  by  his  own  valor,  which  time  itself  can  hardly 
deface."  But  even  Lord  Clarendon  cannot  forbear  a  slight 
tribute  to  his  memory  ;  he  says  of  Blake  :  "  Despising  those 
rules  which  had  been  long  in  practice,  to  keep  his  ships  and 
men  out  of  danger,  as  if  the  principal  art  requisite  in  a  naval 
captain  had  been  to  come  safe  home  again,  he  was  the  first  who 
brought  ships  to  contemn  castles  on  shore,  which  had  ever 
before  been  thought  formidable,  and  taught  his  men  to  fight  in 
fire  as  well  as  upon  water  ;"  and,  adds  his  lordship,  "  though 


210  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

he  has  been  very  well  imitated  and  followed,  he  was  the  first 
that  gave  the  example  of  that  kind  of  naval  courage,  and  bold 
and  resolute  achievements." 

But  from  Blake  we  return  to  Cromwell,  and  rightly  to 
estimate  his  power  our  readers  must  remember  that  at  that  time- 
England  had  never  been  more  than  a  third-rate  power  in 
Europe  ;  and  the  other  nations  were  in  the  height  and  heat  of 
their  grandeur  and  fame.  Spain,  with  a  population  of  about 
thirty  millions — it  had  declined  recently,  in  the  time  of 
Charles  Y.  its  population  had  been  about  thirty-six  millions, 
and  the  population  of  England  at  this  time  could  not  have  been 
six  millions — was  the  kingdom  of  the  Inquisition,  the  chief 
land  of  the  Romish  power  ;  with  her  continents  of  golden  isles 
in  the  west,  her  possessions  of  gold  in  her  own  country  ; 
haughty,  defiant,  and  strong.  Spain,  Cromwell  determined  to 
crush.  France  was  powerful.  Only  recently  had  she  known 
the  monarchy  of  Henry  of  Navarre  and  the  statesmanship  of 
Richelieu.  Her  destinies  were  now  guided  by  the  wiliest  man 
and  most  fox-like  statesman  in  Europe,  Cardinal  Mazarin. 
Him  Cromwell  treated  as  a  valet  or  a  footman  ;  and  his  power 
lay  humbled  and  stricken  before  the  genius  of  the  bluff  farmer- 
statesman.  Our  readers  may  talk,  if  they  will,  about  the  craft 
and  cunning  of  Cromwell,  but  his  letters  to  Mazarin  flow  like 
transparent  waves  before  the  inky  turbidity  of  that  cuttlefish, 
that  Sepia  among  statesmen.  A  dry  humor,  nay,  sometimes  a 
most  droU  humor,  guides  his  dealings  with  him.  Mazarin  was, 
we  know,  a  most  miserable  miser,  a  kind  of  griffon  in  thread- 
bare wings,  watching  his  heaps  and  cellars  of  gold.  How  well 
Cromwell  knew  him.  He  sent  presents  to  Cromwell,  we  find — 
the  richest  and  the  stateliest  presents  of  hangings  and  pictures 
and  jewels.  Whereupon  Cromwell  came  out  generously  too, 
and  sent  the  Frenchman  what  he  knew,  to  his  market  eye, 
would  be  of  more  value  than  hangings,  pictures,  or  books  ;  he 
sent  him  some  tons  of  British  tin  !  Was  it  not  characteristic 
of  the  shrewdness  of  the  man  ?  The  supple  Mazarin  never 
found  himself  so  perplexed. 


FOREIGN    POLICY    AND    POWER   OF    CROMWELL.        211 

Did  our  readers  ever  read  the  anecdote  of  Cromwell  and  the 
Quaker  ?  It  occurs  in  a  speech,  made  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons in  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  by  Mr.  Pul- 
teney,  in  a  debate  on  the  complaints  of  the  West  Indian  mer- 
chants against  Spain  ;  and  certainly  it  showed  no  ordinary 
bravery  to  introduce  the  example  of  Cromwell  to  the  notice  of 
kings  and  ministers  in  those  days. 

"  This  was  what  Oliver  Cromwell  did,"  said  the  speaker, 
"  in  a  like  case,  that  happened  during  his  government,  and  in 
a  case  where  a  more  powerful  nation  was  concerned  than  ever 
Spain  could  pretend  to  be.  In  the  histories  of  his  time  we  are 
told  that  an  English  merchant  ship  was  taken  in  the  chops  of 
the  Channel,  carried  into  St.  Malo,  and  there  confiscated  upon 
some  groundless  pretence.  As  soon  as  the  master  of  the  ship, 
who  was  an  honest  Quaker,  got  home,  he  presented  a  petition 
to  the  Protector  in  Council,  setting  forth  his  case,  and  praying 
for  redress.  Upon  hearing  the  petition,  the  Protector  told  his 
Council  he  would  take  that  affair  upon  himself,  and  ordered 
the  man  to  attend  him  next  morning.  lie  examined  him 
strictly  as  to  all  the  circumstances  of  his  case,  and  finding  by 
his  answers  that  he  was  a  plain,  honest  man,  and  that  he  had 
been  concerned  in  no  unlawful  trade,  he  asked  him  if  he  could 
go  to  Paris  with  a  letter  ?  The  man  answered  he  could. 
'  Well,  then,'  says  the  Protector,  'prepare  for  your  journey, 
and  come  to  me  to-morrow  morning.'  Next  morning  he  gave 
him  a  letter  to  Cardinal  Mazarin,  and  told  him  he  must  stay 
but  three  days  for  an  answer.  '  The  answer  I  mean, '  says  he, 
'  is  the  full  value  of  what  you  might  have  made  of  your  ship 
and  cargo  ;  and  tell  the  Cardinal,  that  if  it  is  not  paid  you  in 
three  days,  you  have  express  orders  from  me  to  return  home.' 
The  honest,  blunt  Quaker,  we  may  -suppose,  followed  his 
instructions  to  a  tittle  ;  but  the  cardinal,  according  to  the 
manner  of  ministers  when  they  are  any  way  pressed,  began  to 
shuffle  ;  therefore  the  Quaker  returned,  as  he  was  bid.  As 
soon  as  the  Protector  saw  him,  he  asked,  '  Well,  friend,  liave 
you  got  your  money  ?  '     And  upon  the  man's  answering  he 


212  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

Lad  not,  the  Protector  told  hira,  '  Then  leave  your  direction 
with  my  secretary,  and  you  shall  soon  hear  from  me.'  Upon 
this  occasion  that  great  man  did  not  stay  to  negotiate,  or  to 
explain,  by  long,  tedious  memorials,  the  reasonableness  of  his 
demand.  No  ;  though  there  was  a  French  minister  residing 
here,  he  did  not  so  much  as  acquaint  him  with  the  story,  but 
immediately  sent  a  man-of-war  or  two  to  the  Channel,  with 
orders  to  seize  every  French  ship  they  could  meet  with. 
Accordingly,  they  returned  in  a  few  days  with  two  or  three 
French  prizes,  which  the  Protector  ordered  to  be  immediately 
sold,  and  out  of  the  produce  he  paid  the  Quaker  what  he 
demanded  for  his  ship  and  cargo.  Then  he  sent  for  the  French 
minister,  gave  him  an  account  of  what  had  happened,  and  told 
him  there  was  a  balance,  which,  if  he  pleased,  should  be  paid 
in  to  him,  to  the  end  that  he  might  deliver  it  to  those  of  his 
countrymen  who  were  the  owners  of  the  French  ships  that  had 
been  so  taken  and  sold."  * 

Cromwell  never  assumed  the  title  of  "  Defender  of  the 
Faith,"  but,  beyond  all  princes  of  Europe,  he  was  the  bulwark 
and  barrier  against  the  cruelties  of  Rome.  In  all  the  persecu- 
tions of  the  French  Protestants,  how  nobly  his  conduct  con- 
trasts with  that  of  Elizabeth  upon  the  occasion  of  the  massacre 
of  St.  Bartholomew  !  She  received  the  ambassador,  but 
Cromwell  wrung  from  the  persecutors  aid  and  help  for  the 
victims. 

The  Duke  of  Savoy  raised  a  new  persecution  of  the 
Vaudois  ;  many  were  massacred,  and  the  rest  driven  from  their 
habitations  ;  whereupon  Cromwell  sent  to  the  French  Court, 
demanding  of  them  to  oblige  that  duke,  whom  he  knew  to  be 
in  their  power,  to  put  a  stop  to  this  unjust  fury,  or  otherwise 
he  must  break  with  them.  The  cardinal  objected  to  this  as 
unreasonable  :  he  would  do  good  offices,  he  said,  but  could  not 
answer  for  the  effects.     However,  nothing  would  satisfy  the 

*  Any  person  desirous  of  authenticating  this  truly  remarkable  in- 
stance will  find  it  by  referring  back  to  the  Parliamentary  Debates  of 
the  period. 


FOREIGN    POLICY   AND    POWER    OF    CROMWELL.        213 

Protector  till  they  obliged  the  duke  to  restore  all  he  had  taken 
from  his  Protestant  subjects,  and  to  renew  their  former  privi- 
]ea:es.  Cromwell  wrote  on  this  occasion  to  the  duke  himself, 
and  by  mistake  omitted  the  title  of  "  Royal  Highness"  on  his 
letter  ;  upon  which  the  major  part  of  the  Council  of  Savoy 
were  for  returning  it  unopened.  But  one  of  them,  representing 
that  Cromwell  would  not  pass  by  such  an  affront,  but  would 
certainly  lay  Villa  Franca  in  ashes  and  set  the  Swiss  Cantons 
on  Savoy,  the  letter  was  read,  and,  with  the  cardinal's  influ- 
ence, had  the  desired  success.  The  Protector  also  raised  money 
in  England  for  the  poor  sufferers,  and  sent  over  an  agent  to 
settle  all  their  affairs.  He  was  moved  to  tears  when  he  heard 
of  the  sufferings  of  the  people  of  the  valleys.  He  seat  imme- 
diately the  sum  of  £2000  from  his  own  purse  to  aid  the  exiles. 
He  appointed  a  day  of  humiliation  to  be  held  throughout  the 
kingdom,  and  a  general  collection  on  their  behalf.  The  people 
heartily  responded  to  his  call,  and  testified  their  sympathy  with 
their  distressed  brethren  by  raising  the  sum  of  £40,000  for 
distribution  among  them. 

At  another  time  there  appeared  a  tumult  at  Nismes,  wherein 
some  disorder  had  been  committed  by  the  Huguenots.  They 
being  apprehensive  of  severe  proceedings  upon  it,  sent  one 
over,  with  great  expedition  and  secrecy,  to  desire  Cromwell's 
intercession  and  protection.  This  express  found  so  good  a 
reception  that  Cromwell  the  same  evening  despatched  a  letter 
to  the  Cardinal,  with  one  indorsed  to  the  king  ;  also  instruc- 
tions to  his  ambassador,  Lockhart,  requiring  him  either  to  pre- 
vail for  a  total  immunity  of  that  misdemeanor,  or  immediately 
to  come  away.  At  Lockhart' s  application  the  disorder  was 
overlooked  ;  and  though  the  French  Court  complained  of  this 
way  of  proceeding  as  a  little  too  imperious,  yet  the  necessity 
of  their  affairs  made  them  comply.  This  Lockhart,  a  wise  and 
gallant  man,  who  was  Governor  of  Dunkirk  and  ambassador  at 
the  same  time,  and  in  high  favor  with  the  Protector,  told 
Bishop  Burnet  that  when  he  was  sent  afterward,  as  ambassador 
by  King  Charles,  he  found  he  had  nothing  of  that  regard  that 


214  OLIVEll   CROMWELL. 

WHS  paid  to  him  in  Cromwell's  time.  Had  Cromwell  been  on 
the  throne  of  England  when  Louis  XIY.  dared  to  revoke  what 
had  been  called  the  Irrevocable  Edict  of  Nantes,  and  by  this 
act  to  inaugurate  a  protracted  and  horrible  reign  of  terror,  the 
revocation  would  never  have  taken  place  ;  or  that  apparition, 
which  Mazarin  alwaj's  dreaded  lest  he  should  see,  would  have 
been  beheld — namely,  Cromwell  at  the  gates  of  Paris. 

There  was  yet  a  further  design,  very  advantageous  to  the 
Protestant  cause,  wherewith  Cromwell  intended  to  have  begun 
his  kingship,  had  he  taken  it  upon  him  ;  and  that  was  the 
instituting  a  council  for  the*  Protestant  religions,  in  opposition 
to  the  Conyrefiatlon  de  Propayanda  Fide  at  Rome.  This  body 
was  to  consist  of  seven  councillors,  and  four  secretaries  for 
different  provinces.  Tlie  secretaries  were  to  have  £500  salary 
apiece,  to  keep  correspondence  everywhere.  Ten  thousand 
pounds  a  year  was  to  be  a  fund  for  ordinary  emergencies  ; 
further  supplies  were  to  be  provided  as  occasions  required  ; 
and  Chelsea  College,  then  an  old  ruinous  building,  was  to  be 
fitted  up  for  their  reception.  This  was  a  great  design,  and 
worthy  of  the  man  who  had  formed  it. 

It  was  at  the  very  })eriod  of  the  massacre  of  the  Piedmontese, 
that  a  treaty  with  France  had  been  matured,  after  long  and 
tedious  neu'otiatioii.  (  >iif  (liuiand  after  anothir  had  been  con- 
ceded  to  Cromwell  by  Louis  an.l  his  crafty  adviser,  the 
Cardinal  Mazarin.  John  Milton,  Oliver's  Private  and  Foreign 
Secretary,  had  conducted  the  Tiegotiation  to  a  successful  issue, 
and  the  French  and>assador  waited  with  the  treaty  ready  for 
signature,  when  Ciomwell  learned  of  the  sutferings  of  the 
Vaudois.  He  forthwith  despatched  an  ambassador,  on  their 
behalf,  to  the  Court  of  Turin,  and  refused  to  sign  the  treaty 
with  France  until  their  wrongs  were  redressed.  The  French 
ambassador  was  astonished  and  indignant.  lie  remonstrated 
with  Cromwell,  and  urged  that  the  question  bore  no  connection 
with  the  terms  of  the  treaty  ;  nor  could  his  sovereign  interfere, 
on  any  plea,  with  tlu*  subjects  of  an  independent  State. 
Mazarin    took    even    bulder   giound.      He    did    not  conceal  liis 


FOREIGN    POLICY   AND    POWER   OF   CROMWELL.       215 

sympathy  with  the  efforts  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy  to  coerce  these 
Protestant  rebels — declared  his  conviction  that  in  truth  "  the 
Vaudois  had  inflicted  a  hundred  times  worse  cruelties  on  the 
Catholics  than  they  had  suffered  from  them  ;"  and  altogether 
took  up  a  very  high  and  haughty  position.  Cromwell 
remained  unmoved.  New  protestations  met  with  no  better 
reception.  He  told  his  majesty  of  France,  in  reply  to  his 
assurances  of  the  impossibility  of  interfering,  that  he  had 
already  allowed  his  own  troops  to  be  employed  as  the  tools  of 
the  persecutors  ;  which,  though  very  much  like  giving  his 
Christian  Majesty  the  lie,  was  not  without  its  effect.  Crom- 
well would  not  move  from  the  sacred  duty  he  had  assumed  to 
himself,  as  the  defender  of  the  persecuted  Protestants  of 
Europe.  The  French  ambassador  applied  for  an  audience  to 
take  his  leave,  and  was  made  welcome  to  go.  Louis  and 
Mazarin  had  both  to  yield  to  his  wishes  at  last,  and  became  the 
unwilling  advocates  of  the  heretics  of  the  valleys. 

Indeed,  of  the  whole  foreign  policy  of  Cromwell,  in  which 
Milton  bore  so  conspicuous  a  share,  a  very  slight  sketch  may 
suffice.  It  is  altogether  such  as  every  Englishman  may  be 
proud  of.  Not  an  iota  of  the  honors  due  to  a  crowned  head 
would  he  dispense  with  when  negotiating,  as  the  Protector  of 
England,  with  the  proudest  monarchs  of  Europe.  Spain 
yielded,  with  little  hesitation,  to  accord  to  him  the  same  style 
as  was  claimed  by  her  own  haughty  monarchs  ;  but  Louis  of 
France  sought,  if  possible,  some  compromise.  Ills  first  letter 
was  addressed  to  "  His  Most  Serene  Highness  Oliver,  Lord  Pro- 
tector," etc.,  but  Cromwell  refused  to  receive  it.  The  more 
familiar  title  of  "  Cousin,"  was  in  like  manner  rejected,  and 
Louis  and  his  crafty  minister,  the  Cardinal  Mazarin,  were  com- 
pelled to  concede  to  him  the  wonted  mode  of  address  between 
sovereigns  :  "  To  our  Dear  Brother  Oliver."  "  What  !"  ex- 
claimed Louis  to  his  minister,  "  shall  I  call  this  base  fellow  my 
brother?"  "Aye,"  rejoined  his  astute  adviser,  "or  your 
father,  if  it  will  gain  your  ends,  or  you  will  have  him  at  the 
gates  of  Paris  !"        . 


216  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

Again,  when  those  of  the  Valley  of  Lucerne  had  unwarily 
rebelled  against  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  which  gave  occasion  to  the 
Pope  and  the  neighboring  princes  of  Italy  to  call  and  solicit  for 
their  extirpation,  and  their  prince  had  positively  resolved  upon 
it,  Cromwell  sent  his  agent  to  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  a  jirince  with 
whom  he  had  no  correspondence  or  commerce,  and  also 
engaged  the  Cardinal,  and  even  terrified  the  Pope  liimself, 
without  so  much  as  doing  any  grace  to  the  English  Roman 
Catholics  (nothing  being  more  usual  than  his  saying,  "  that 
his  ships  in  the  Mediterranean  should  visit  Civita  Vecchia,  and 
that  the  sound  of  his  cannon  should  be  heard  in  Rome"),  that 
the  Duke  of  Savoy  though  it  necessary  to  restore  all  he  had 
taken  from  them,  and  did  renew  all  those  privileges  they  had 
formerly  enjoyed  and  newly  forfeited. 

"  Cromwell,"  says  a  celebrated  writer,  "  would  never  suffer 
himself  to  be  denied  anything  he  ever  asked  of  the  Cardinal, 
alleging,  '  that  people  would  be  otherwise  dissatisfied  ;'  which 
the  Cardinal  bore  very  heavily,  and  complained  of  to  those 
with  whom  he  would  be  free.  One  day  he  visited  Madame 
Turenne  ;  and  when  he  took  his  leave  of  her,  she,  according  to 
her  custom,  besought  him  to  continue  gracious  to  the 
churches.  Whereupon  the  Cardinal  told  her  "  that  he  knew 
not  how  to  behave  himself  :  if  he  advised  the  king  to  punish 
and  suppress  their  insolence,  Cromwell  threatened  him  to  join 
with  the  Spaniard  ;  and  if  he  showed  any  favor  to  them,  at 
Rome  they  accounted  him  a  heretic. '  ' ' 

The  proceedings  the  Cardinal  did  adopt  leave  no  room  to 
doubt  the  conclusion  he  finally  arrived  at,  as  to  whether  it  was 
most  advisable  to  attend  to  the  threats  of  the  Pope  of  Rome  or 
of  the  Lord  Protector  of  England. 

The  prince  who  bears  the  closest  resemblance  to  Cromwell  is 
Gustavus  Adolphus  of  Sweden.  He,  too,  was  the  lion  of  the 
Protestant  cause,  and  his  camp,  like  that  of  the  great  British 
farmer,  was  the  scene  of  piety  and  extraordinary  bravery. 
Like  Cromwell,  he  was  rapid,  and  irresistible  as  a  mountain 
torrent,  on  the  field.      Like  Cromwell,  he  alarmed  the  councils 


POREIGK   POLICY  AKD   POWER   OP   CROMWELL.        217 

of  the  Roman  Pontiff  and  struck  terror  into  the  Imperialist 
cabinet.  Far  inferior  to  Cromwell — for  who  of  all  generals  or 
statesmen  equalled  him  ? — yet  both  regarded  themselves  as  set 
apart  and  consecrated  for  the  defence  of  Protestantism  against 
the  encroachments  and  cruelties  of  Popery.  This  idea  largely 
entered  into  the  mind  of  the  Protector.  He  saw  the  state  of 
Europe  ;  he  felt  for  its  wrung  and  lacerated  condition.  In  his 
age  he  was  the  only  Protestant  prince  ;  the  so-called  Protestant 
statesmen  were  in  leairue  Avith  Rome.  He  raised  his  banner 
against  the  Vatican,  declared  his  side  and  his  convictions,  and 
made  the  tyrants  and  diplomatists  of  Europe  quail  and  shrink 
before  the  shadow  of  his  power  and  the  terror  of  his  name. 
In  the  history  of  Protestantism  he  occupies  the  distinguished 
place,  in  the  very  foreground.  That  we  are  entitled  to  say 
thus  much  of  him  is  proved  by  a  reference  to  his  own  words, 
as  well  as  to  the  better  evidence  of  his  deeds. 

Nor  must  we  fail  to  glance  at  the  sea.  During  the  time  of 
Charles,  pirates  infested  our  own  coast,  scoured  Devonshire 
and  the  Channel.  Beneath  the  Protectorate  things  were 
speedily  amended.  The  guns  of  the  enemy  rolled  no  more 
round  the  British  coast  till  Cromwell  was  dead  and  Charles 
Stuart  came  back  ;  and  then,  indeed,  even  London  herself 
heard  them  thundering  up  the  Medway  and  the  Thames. 
Turks,  pirates,  and  corsairs,  these  were  swept  away  of  course  ; 
but  in  those  days  Spain  herself  was  but  a  kingdom  of  robbers 
and  buccaneers.  Waves  of  old  golden  romance  ;  what  imagi- 
nation does  not  kindle  over  the  stories  of  the  Spanish  Main  ! 
The  power  of  Spain  was  there  ;  Spain,  the  bloodiest  power  of 
Europe  ;  Spain,  the  land  of  the  Inquisition  ;  Spain,  the  dis- 
graced, degraded  ;  land  of  every  superstition.  Against  her 
Cromwell  declared  war.  Alliance  with  France,  hostility  to 
Spain,  and  we  have  seen  how  the  immortal  Blake  and  his  fire- 
ships  scoured  those  distant  seas.  That  great  sea-king  !  Have 
we  not  seen  the  action  of  the  Port  of  Santa  Cruz,  beneath  the 
Peak  of  Teneriffe  ? — the  thundering  whirlwinds  of  fire  and 
flying  iron  hail.     Sixteen  war-ships,  full   of  silver,  all  safely 


Sl8  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

moored,  as  it  seemed,  in  that  grand  castellated  and  unassailable 
bay  ;  the  whole  eight  castles,  a  very  Sevastopol  there  !  See 
Blake  entering  beneath  that  living  thunder,  all  starting  from  its 
sleep  ;  see  him,  with  his  ship  silencing  the  castles,  sinking  the 
mighty  gun-ships,  and  sailing  quietly  from  Santa  Cruz  bay 
again.  Those  were  the  days,  too,  in  which  Oliver  possessed 
England  of  Jamaica,  and  asserted  the  right  of  England,  also,  in 
those  seas.  It  was  thus  that  His  Highness  grappled  with  the 
Spanish  Antichrist  ;  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  Spanish 
Antichrist  has  never  been,  from  the  day  of  Cromwell  to  this 
hour,  what  it  was  before. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    LAST    DAYS    OF    CROMWELL. 

''Yet  is  their  strength  labor  and  sorroiv  ;^^  this,  after  all, 
must  be  said  even  of  this  great  and  most  successful  man.  Our 
conception  of  him  is  such  that  we  can  well  believe  lie  longed 
to  be  at  rest.  It  was  an  amazing  work,  that  in  which  he  was 
the  actor  ;  but  with  what  toil  and  endurance  and  sleepless 
energy  had  he  to  travail  day  and  night  !  The  honor  of  knight- 
hood and  £500  a  year  forever  was  offered  by  a  proclamation, 
by  Charles  Stuart,  from  his  vile,  ragged,  and  filthy  Court  in 
Paris,  to  any  who  would  take  the  life  of  the  Protector  ;  and 
there  were  many  in  England  who  longed  to  see  the  mighty 
monarch  dethroned.  In  his  palace  chambers  lived  his  noble 
mother,  nearly  ninety,  now  trembling  at  every  sound,  lest  it  be 
some  ill  to  her  noble  and  royal  son. 

We  are  not  surprised  at  the  absence  of  much  that  seems,  to 
our  minds,  happiness  in  those  last  days.  The  higher  we  go, 
brother,  in  the  great  kingdom  of  duty,  the  less  we  must  expect 
to  enjoy,  apparently,  in  the  picturesque  villages  of  happiness. 
Ah  !  but  the  sense  brightens  and  sweetens  within  ;  for  there 
are  they  "  who  taste  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good."  "  Do 
you  not  see,"  says  our  anti-Cromwell  friend,  "  a  Divine  com- 
pensation in  this  unhappiness  of  Cromwell  ?"  No,  we  do  not. 
What,  in  his  old  age  was  Baxter  happier  ?  or  Vane  ?  or  were 
the  last  days  of  Owen  more  sweetly  soothed  ?  On  the  con- 
trary. Weak  Richard  Cromwell — who  does  nothing — steps 
into  the  by-lanes  of  life,  and  goes  serenely  off  the  stage. 
Would  you  rather,  then,  be  Richard  than  Oliver  ? — rather  have 
Richard's  quiet  than  Oliver's  unrest  ?  It  is  well  to  sigh  for 
calm  ;  but  to  sigh  for  it,  indeed,  Ave  must  deserve  it.  Easy  it 
is  for  us  who  do  nothing  worth  calling  a  deed,  to  take  our 
Rhine  journeys,  to  stand  in  Venice,  or  to  see  the  broad  suu 


220  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

shine  on  us  from  Ben  Mucdhui  or  Loch  Lomond,  or  the  moon 
rise  over  Grasmere.  But  men  who  have  done  a  thousand  times 
over  our  work  never  know  that  liour  of  rest.  What  then,  they 
are  rewarded  better  than  we  are,  and  shall  be  !  No,  thou 
caitiff,  coward  Royalist  !  Say  not  to  us,  "  See,  here  is  the 
life  thou  callest  a  brave  one  p'oino;  out  in  ashes.  What  is 
Oliver,  the  just  and  the  lioly,  better  than  I,  with  my  songs,  and 
my  harlots,  and  my  dice  ?"  And  we  say,  "  Thou  poor,  halt, 
and  maimed  rascal,  he  is  every  way  better  ;  for  he  has  peace." 
Oh,  doulitless,  then,  the  hard,  rough  hand  of  the  old  Marston 
and  Naseby  soldier  would  take  once  more  the  gentle  hand  of 
Elizabeth,  clasped  tightly  thirty-eight  years  ago  ;  floods  of 
tenderness  would  come  over  him  as  they  come  over  all  such 
men.  In  those  last  days  it  Avas  that  he  said  to  his  Parliament, 
"  There  is  not  a  man  living  can  say  I  sought  this  place — not  a 
man  or  woman  living  on  English  ground.  I  can  say  in  the 
presence  of  God,  in  comparison  witii  whom  we  are  like  creep- 
ing ants  upon  the  earth,  I  would  have  been  glad  to  have  lived 
under  my  woodside,  and  have  kept  a  flock  of  sheep,  rather 
than  have  undertaken  such  a  government  as  this."  Yes  ;  you 
can  see  him  there,  in  the  great,  stately  palace,  in  some  quiet 
room,  talking  with  Elizabeth  over  the  old,  free,  healthy,  quiet 
days  at  Huntingdon,  and  St.  Ives,  and  Ely,  and  Ramsey — days 
surely,  never  to  be  known  again  nntil  the  deeper  quiet  of  eter- 
nity is  reached.  Do  you  not  sympathize  with  that  quiet,  timid, 
lady-like  wife,  in  lier  dove-like  beauty,  trembling  near  the 
eagle  heart  of  her  great  husband,  and  wondering,  "  When  he 
is  gone,  what  will,  what  can  become  of  me  ?"  As  we  walk  in 
fancy  through  the  old  palace  chambers,  we  think  many  such 
things  about  them. 

Death  threw  his  shadow  over  Oliver's  palace  before  he  broke 
in.  The  following  of  Thurloe  is  touching  :  "  My  Lord  Pro- 
tector's mother,  of  ninety-four  years  old,  died  last  night.  A 
little  before  her  death  she  gave  my  lord  her  blessing  in  these 
words  :  '  The  Lord  cause  His  face  to  shine  upon  you,  and 
comfort  you  in  all  your  adversities,  and  enable  you  to  do  great 


THE    LAST   DATS    OF    CROMAVELL.  221 

tilings  for  tlie  glory  of  your  most  high  God,  and  to  be  a  relief 
unto  His  people.  My  dear  son,  I  leave  my  heart  with  thee. 
Good-nio'ht.'  "  ^' Taken  from  the  evil  to  come.''^  One  is  glad 
she  went  first,  before  the  great  change.  Then  his  heart  was 
shaken  by  the  death  of  the  Lady  Elizabeth,  his  beloved  daugh- 
ter, Mrs.  Claypole.  This  broke  down  his  heart.  Her  long 
illness  ;  his  tenderness,  as  father,  so  extreme  ;  his  constant  watch- 
ing by  her  side,  the  spectator  of  her  violent  convulsive  fits  :  the 
strong  soldier,  who  had  ridden  his  war-charger  conquering  over 
so  many  fields,  bowed  before  the  blow  when  her  death  came. 

And,  therefore,  only  a  few  days  after,  when  he  was  seized 
with  illness  at  Hampton  Court,  he  felt  that  it  was  for  death  ; 
and  that  death-bed  is  one  of  the  most  profoundly  memorable, 
even  as  that  life  was  one  of  the  most  illustrious  and  glorious. 
But  it  was  more  than  the  death-bed  of  a  hero  ;  it  was  the 
death-bed  of  a  Christian.  In  that  death-chamber  prayers — 
deep,  powerful,  long — went  up,  and  men  sought  to  lay  hold  on 
God  that  He  might  spare  him  ;  but,  says  one,  "  We  could  not 
be  more  desirous  he  should  abide  than  he  was  content  and 
Avilling  to  be  gone.  He  called  for  his  Bible,  and  desired  an 
honorable  and  godly  person  there,  with  others  present,  to  read 
unto  him  that  passage  in  Phil.  iv.  11-13  :  '  Not  that  I  speak 
in  respect  of  want  :  for  I  have  learned,  in  whatsoever;  state  I 
am,  therewith  to  be  content.  I  know  both  how  to  be  abased, 
and  I  know  how  to  abound  :  everywhere  and  in  all  things  I  am 
instructed  both  to  be  full  and  to  be  hungry,  both  to  abound 
and  to  suffer  need.  I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  which 
strengtheneth  me.'  Which  read,  said  he,  to  use  his  own 
Avords  as  near  as  we  can  remember  them,  *  This  Scripture  did 
once  save  my  life,  when  my  eldest  son,  poor  Oliver,  died, 
which  went  as  a  dagger  to  my  heart,  indeed  it  did.'  And 
then,  repeating  the  words  of  the  text  himself,  and  reading  the 
tenth  and  eleventh  verses,  of  St.  Paul's  contentment  and  sub- 
mission to  the  will  of  God  in  all  conditions,  said  he,  '  It's 
true,  Paul,  you  have  learned  this,  and  attained  to  this  measure 
of  grace  ;  but  what  shall  I  do  ?     Ah,  poor  creature,  it  is  a  hard 


222  OLIVER    CROMAVELL. 

lesson  for  me  to  take  out  !  I  find  it  so. '  But  reading  on  to 
the  thirteentli  verse,  where  Paul  saith,  '  I  can  do  all  things 
throuo-h  Christ  which  strengtheneth  me,'  then  faith  began  to 
work,  and  his  heart  to  find  support  and  comfort,  and  he  said 
thus  to  himself,  '  He  that  was  Paul's  Christ  is  my  Christ  too  ;' 
and  so  *  he  drew  water  out  of  the  wells  of  salvation.'  " 

"Oliver,  we  find,"  says  Carlyle,  "spoke  much  of  'the 
covenants,'  w^hich,  indeed,  are  the  grand  axes  of  all,  in  that 
Puritan  universe  of  his.  Two  covenants  ;  one  of  works,  with 
fearful  judgment  for  our  shortcomings  therein,  one  of  grace, 
wuth  unspeakable  mercy  ;  gracious  engagements,  covenants 
which  the  eternal  God  has  vouchsafed  to  make  with  his  feeble 
creature,  man.  Two — and  by  Christ's  death  they  have  become 
one — there,  for  Oliver,  is  the  divine  solution  of  this  our  mys- 
tery of  life.  *  They  were  two, '  he  was  heard  ejaculating  — 
'  but  put  into  one  before  the  foundation  of  the  world  !  '  And 
again  :  '  It  is  holy  and  true,  it  is  holy  and  true,  it  is  holy  and 
true  !  Who  made  it  holy  and  true  ?  The  Mediator  of  the 
covenant.'  And  a2:ain  :  '  The  covenant  is  but  one.  Faith  in 
the  covenant  is  my  only  support,  and,  if  I  believe  not,  lie 
abides  faithful.'  AVhen  his  wife  and  cliildren  stood  Aveeping 
round  him,  he  said,  '  Love  not  this  world  !  '  'I  say  unto 
you,  it  -is  not  good  that  you  should  love  this  world  !  '  No. 
'  Children,  live  like  Christians  ;  I  leave  you  the  covenant  to 
feed  upon  !  '  Yes,  my  brave  one,  even  so.  The  covenant, 
and  eternal  soul  of  covenants,  remains  sure  to  all  the  faithful  ; 
deeper  than  the  foundations  of  this  world,  earlier  than  they, 
and  more  lasting  than  they." 

"  Look  also  at  the  following  :  dark  hues  and  bright  ;  im- 
mortal light  beams  struggling  amid  the  black  vapors  of  death. 
Look,  and  conceive  a  great  sacred  scene,  the  sacredest  this 
world  sees — and  think  of  it  ;  do  not  speak  of  it  in  these  mean 
days  which  have  no  sacred  word.  '  Is  there  none  that  says. 
Who  will  deliver  me  from  this  peril  ?  '  moaned  he  once. 
Many  hearts  are  praying,  0  wearied  one  !  *  Man  can  do  noth- 
ing,' rejoins  he  ;  '  God  car)  do  wliat  He  will,'     Another  tirne, 


THE    LAST    DAYS    OF    CROMWELL.  223 

again  tliinking  of  the  covenant,  '  Is  there  none  that  will  come 
and  praise  God,  whose  mercies  endure  forever  ?  '  " 

Here  also  are  ejaculations  caught  up  at  intervals,  undated,  in 
those  final  days.  "  Lord,  Thou  knowest,  if  I  do  desire  to 
live,  it  is  to  show  forth  Thy  praise  aud  to  declare  Thy  works  !" 
Once  he  was  heard  saying,  "It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  living  God  !"  "  This  was  spoken  three 
times,"  says  Maidston,  "  his  repetitions  usually  being  very 
weighty,  and  with  great  vehemcncy  of  spirit."  Thrice  over 
he  said  this,  looking  into  the  eternal  kingdoms.  But  again  : 
"  All  the  promises  of  God  are  in  Him  yea,  and  in  Ilim  amen  ; 
to  the  glory  of  God  by  us  in  Jesus  Christ."  "  The  Lord  hath 
filled  me  with  as  much  assurance  of  His  pardon  and  His  love 
as  my  soul  can  hold."  "I  think  I  am  the  poorest  wretch 
that  lives  ;  but  I  love  God,  or  rather  am  beloved  of  God." 
"  I  am  a  conqueror,  and  more  than  a  conqueror,  through 
Christ  that  strengtheneth  me  !" 

On  the  30th  of  August,  however  (having  in  the  interim 
been  removed  from  Hampton  Court  to  Whitehall),  he  had  so 
far  changed  his  sentiments  as  to  think  it  necessary  to  declare 
his  eldest  son  Uichard  his  successor  in  the  Protectorate.  And, 
on  the  evening  before  his  departure,  in  the  same  doubtful 
temper  of  mind,  though  still  greatly  supported  by  his  enthusi- 
asm, he  uttered  the  following  prayer  : 

"  Lord,  although  I  am  a  wretclied  and  miserable  creature,  I 
am  in  covenant  with  Thee  through  grace,  and  I  may,  I  will, 
come  unto  Thee  for  my  people.  Thou  hast  made  me  a  mean 
instrument  to  do  them  some  good,  and  Thee  service  ;  and 
many  of  them  have  set  too  high  a  value  upon  me,  though 
others  wish  and  would  be  glad  of  n)y  death.  But,  Lord,  how- 
ever Thou  dost  dispose  of  me,  continue  to  go  on,  and  do  good 
*for  them.  Give  them  consistency  of  judgment,  one  iieart,  and 
mutual  love  ;  and  go  on  to  deliver  them,  and  with  the  work  of 
reformation,  and  make  the  name  of  Christ  glorious  in  the 
world.  Teach  those  who  look  too  much  upon  Thy  instru- 
ments to  depend  more  upon  Thyself.     F^rdoo  such  as  desire  to 


224  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

trample  upon  the  dust  of  a  poor  worm,  for  they  are  Thy  peo{)lc 
too  ;  and  pardon  the  folly  of  this  short  prayer,  for  Jesus  Christ 
His  sake,  and  give  us  a  good  night  if  it  be  Thy  pleasure. 

It  was  the  3d  of  September,  1658,  the  anniversary  of  his 
famous  battles  of  Dunbar  and  Worcester  ;  a  day  always  cele- 
brated by  rejoicings  in  honor  of  these  important  victories. 
When  the  sun  rose  Oliver  was  speechless,  and  between  three 
and  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  expired.  God  shattered 
all  his  strength  on  this  festival  of  his  glory  and  his  triumphs. 

The  sorrow  of  the  Protector's  friends  and  of  the  majority  of 
the  nation  cannot  be  described.  "  The  consternation  and 
astonishment  of  all  people,"  wrote  Fauconberg  to  Henry  Crom- 
well, "  are  inexpressible  ;  their  hearts  seem  as  if  sunk  within 
them.  And  if  it  was  thus  abroad,  your  lordship  may  imagine 
what  it  was  in  the  family  of  His  Highness  and  other  near  rela- 
tions. My  poor  wife  (Mary,  Oliver's  third  daughter),  I  know 
not  what  in  the  eaith  to  do  with  her.  When  seemingly 
quieted,  she  bursts  out  again  into  passions  that  tear  her  very 
heart  in  pieces  ;  nor  can  I  blame  her,  considering  what  she  has 
lost.  It  fares  little  better  with  others.  God,  I  trust,  will 
sanctify  this  bitter  cup  to  us  all."  "  I  am  not  able  to  speak 
or  write,"  said  Thurloe.  "  This  stroke  is  so  sore,  so  unex- 
pected, the  providence  of  God  is  so  stupendous  ;  considering 
the  person  that  has  fallen,  the  time  and  season  wherein  God 
took  him  away,  with  other  circumstances,  I  can  do  nothing  but 
put  my  mouth  in  the  dust  and  say.  It  is  the  Lord. 
It  is  not  to  be  said  what  affliction  the  army  and  the  people 
show  to  his  late  Highness  ;  his  name  is  already  precious. 
Never  was  there  any  man  so  prayed  for. ' ' 

"  Hush  !  poor  weeping  Mary,"  says  Carlyle,  after  reading 
the  foregoing  extract ;  here  is  a  life-battle  right  nobly  done. 

Seest  thou  not 

* 

"  The  storm  is  changed  into  a  calm  ' 
At  his  command  and  will  ; 
So  that  the  waves  which  raged  before, 
Now  quiet  ai-e  and  still ! 


THE   LAST   DAYS   OF   CEOMWELL.  225 

"  Then  are  they  glad,  tecause  at  rest. 
And  quiet  now  tliey  be  ; 
So  to  the  haven  he  them  brings, 
Which  they  desired  to  see." 

"  '  Blessed  arc  tlie  dead  wliichdie  in  the  Lord.'  Blessed 
are  the  valiant  that  have  lived  in  the  Lord.  '  Amen/  saith  the 
spirit,  Amen  !  They  '  rest'  from  their  labors,  and  their  works 
do  follow  them.'  " 

And  what  is  the  verdict  upon  all  these  amazing  faculties  of 
mind  ?  Mr.  Forster  says,  "  They  failed  in  their  mission  upon 
earth."  Failed  !  then  Gustavus  at  Lutzen  failed  ;  then  every 
jnartyr  in  every  age  has  failed.  No  !  we  will  not  call  that  life 
a  failure.  It  was  success  ;  it  was  success  in  itself,  and  in  vi'hat 
followed  it.  Cromwell  has  been  called  the  armed  soldier  of 
democracy.  No,  he  was  not  that  ;  he  was  the  armed  soldier 
of  Puritanism.  His  knighthood  was  religious  ;  and  if  you 
judge  him  accurately,  he  bears  just  the  same  relation  to  the 
consolidation  and  settlement  of  our  constitution  that  William 
the  Conqueror  bears  to  the  consolidation  and  settlement  of 
feudalism.  Oliver  the  Conqueror,  in  himself,  and  in  what  he 
marks,  is  an  epoch  in  the  development  of  English  law. 

Cromwell  was  the  greatest  and  most  illustrious  instance  of 
reaction,  in  the  great  and  rising  middle-class,  against  feudal 
tyranny.  The  contest  was  carried  on  between  the  king  and  his 
people  alone.  In  other  and  not  less  deserving  agitations  the 
cause  of  tyranny  had  received  aid  from  neighboring  monarchs  ; 
in  this  case  the  battle  was  fought  by  the  representatives  of  the 
soil  alone.  The  struggles  of  the  Netherlands,  beneath  leaders 
whose  power  and  eloquence  and  sagacity  have  been  the  subjects 
of  romance  and  poetry,  from  that  time  to  this  hour,  were  un- 
successful ;  but  not  unsuccessful  were  we. 

It  is  mournful  that  every  chapter  of  constitutional  law  has 
been  inaugurated  by  the  sword.     The  sword  of  Cromwell  alone- 
gave  victory  to  the  people  over  the  king  in  the  first  days  of  the 
contest.     Had    not   those   victories    been   obtained,    this  land 
would  have  been  at  the  feet  of  a  cold  and  cruel  tyrant.      The 


S26  OLIVER  CROMWELL. 

king's  nature  was  so  well  known  that  his  friends  dreaded  a 
victory  upon  his  side.  The  country  would  have  been  one 
widespread  scene  of  decimation  and  attainder.  Victory  on  the 
banners  of  Charles-  would  have  sealed  the  enslavement  of  our 
land  for  long  ages.  When  the  will  of  the  king  became  the 
tyrannizer  of  the  country,  and  over  the  whole  population  of  the 
land  tlierc  seemed  to  be  no  hope  for  enfranchisement  or  escape, 
then  Cromwell  arose — as  Prince  Arthur  by  the  side  of  the 
enclianted  lake  beheld  suddenly  arise  the  hand  bearing  the 
sword,  the  good  sword  of  Excalibur.  So  law  was  beaten  down. 
When  in  Church  and  State  spreads  one  wide  waste  of  desola- 
tion, then,  out  of  the  ranks  of  the  people,  arose  Cromwell  ! 
You  may  refuse  his  monument  a  niche  in  the  House  of  Lords  ; 
you  may  allow  his  name  to  be  cast  out.  It  matters  not  ;  he 
marks  an  era  in  the  history  of  English  law  !  In  the  next  gen- 
eration the  tide  of  tyranny  arose  again,  and  beat  in  storms 
upon  the  people.  It  matters  not  !  William  I.  does  not  more 
surely  mark  an  epoch  in  the  liistory  of  England  than  Cromwell 
does  ;  his  memory  and  his  name  tower  aloft  over  the  ages. 
Read  his  deeds,  and  you  will  find  that  while  he  conquered  he 
defined  the  new  and  enlarged  limits  of  English  representation. 
He  conquered  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  and  united  both  in 
one  peaceful  government.  He  indicated  the  destiny  of  the 
West  Indies.  A  born  child  of  justice  and  of  rectitude,  he 
glanced  along  all  the  headlands  of  unrighteousness,  and  de- 
clared their  corruption  and  their  ruin.  He  shivered  absolutism, 
while  making  himself  the  most  absolute  prince.  He  broke  the 
wand  of  feudalism  and  cast  it  into  the  deep  sea. 

We  will  leave  him  now.  They  gave  him  a  magnificent 
funeral  in  the  old  Abbey,  where  they  had  buried  Blake  and  the 
Protector's  mother.  But  when  Charles  Stuart  returned,  the 
bodies  were  taken  up  and  buried  at  Tyburn,  the  head  of  Crom- 
well exposed  over  Westminster  Hall.  The  dastards  and  the 
fools  !  But,  after  all,  it  is  not  certain  that  the  body  buried  in 
the  Abbey  was  his  body.  -In  a  rare  old  volume  we  have,  one 
hundred  and  sixty  years  old,  it  is  confidently  asserted,  on  the 


tHE   LAST   DAYS   OF   CROMWELL.  ^27 

autliority  of  the  nurse  of  Crornwell,  that  he  was  privately 
buried  by  uight  in  the  Thames,  in  order  to  avert  the  indignities 
which  it  was  foreseen  would  be  wreaked  on  his  body  ;  and  this 
by  his  own  direction.  Other  rumors  assign  another  spot  to  his 
burial.  Ah,  well  !  it  matters  little.  We  know  where  his 
work  is,  and  how  far  that  is  buried.  We  see  him  standing 
there,  ushering  in  a  new  race  of  English  kings.  True,  as 
Rufus  or  Henry  Beauclerc  seemed  to  carry  England  no  further 
in  the  career  of  progress  than  before  the  Norman  accession,  so, 
in  the  mad  cruelty  of  the  succeeding  kings  to  Cromwell,  all 
seemed  lost.  But  no  !  He  was  the  breakwater  of  tyranny. 
By  his  Parliament  we  have  seen  he  amended  English  represen- 
tation. He  held  aloft  in  his  hand  the  charter  to  guide,  he 
knew  he  could  not  give.  Show  us  almost  any  act  of  legislative 
greatness,  and  we  will  show  it  you  as  anticipated  by  Cromwell. 
Of  course  there  Avas  a  wild  outbreak  and  outcry  when  Charles 
came  from  Dover  to  London,  and  blazing  bonfires,  and  may- 
poles, and  fireworks,  and  garlands,  inaugurating  a  new  despot- 
ism ;  not  the  despotism  of  God  and  goodness,  not  the 
despotism  of  power  and  majesty,  but  the  despotism  of  lust  and 
licentiousness,  of  cruelty  and  cowardice,  of  fraud  and  intoler- 
ance, of  Nell  Gvvynne  and  Castlemaine  and  Portsmouth  ;  and 
good  men  gave  up  all  for  lost.  But  that  royal  monarch  whose 
bones  had  been  insulted,  and  whose  memory  had  been  cursed, 
he  was  not  dead  !  Even  Clarendon  was  compelled  to  contrast 
his  royal  master's  throne  with  that  ungarnished  one  ;  and  men 
who,  like  Baxter,  had  only  irritated  and  annoyed  and  weakened 
his  Government  by  their  bilious  maundering,  threw  back  glances 
of  sadness  to  those  days,  and  thought  and  spoke  of  their  lost 
happiness  with  a  sigh.  Of  Baxter  this  is  especially  true,  and  it 
is  representatively  true.  We  always  feel,  after  reading  his 
irritable  attempts  to  annoy  the  Government  of  the  great  Pra 
tector  during  his  life,  that  there  is  a  fine  but  a  just  compensa- 
tion in  the  tones  in  which  he  bewails  the  dead  Protector's 
memory,  and  the  decency  and  order  of  England  in  that 
departed  day  ;  not  to  speak  of  his  own  arrest  and  trial,  and  the 


228  OLIVER   CKOMWELL. 

attempts  made  by  the  wicked  Jeffries  upon  the  honor  and  life 
of  the  venerable  old  saint. 

But  the  shadow  of  the  great  Protector  was  over  the  land 
still.  T^ar  him  limb  from  limb — behead  him — affix  his  head 
to  any  gibbet — you  cannot  get  rid  of  his  work  so.  He  failed, 
says  Mr.  Forster  ! 

•'  They  never  fail  who  die  in  a  great  cause. 
The  block  may  soak  their  gore, 
Their  head  be  strung  to  city  gates  or  castle  walls, 
But  still  their  spirit  walks  abroad  !" 

As  the  mad  voluptuary  rode  down  to  the  House,  did  he  never 
gaze  up  to  that  head  he  believed  to  be  his  powerful  con- 
queror's, and  see  in  the  scowl  of  the  skeleton  skull  the  aveng- 
ing genius  of  the  country,  whose  holy  altars  he  had  profaned, 
and  whose  riglits  he  had  outraged  ?  The  mind  of  Cromwell 
was  abroad,  and  the  genius  of  freedom,  as  represented  by  him, 
conquered  once  more. 

But  now,  for  the  present,  we  leave  him,  to  our  imagination, 
calm  in  his  uncrowned  majesty  ;  surrounded  by  his  illustri- 
ous compatriots  ;  friend  and  fellow-laborer  of  Hampden  and 
Pym  ;  of  Selden  and  of  Hale  ;  whose  friendly  hand  employed 
and  fostered  the  jjenius  of  Milton  and  of  Marvell  :  whose  holv 
hours  were  solaced  by  the  sacred  converse  of  Owen  and  of 
Howe,  of  Manton  and  of  Goodwyn  and  Caryl  ;  whose  strong 
arm  shielded  his  own  land  ;  whose  awful  spirit  overshadowed 
with  fear  the  greatest  nations  and  greatest  statesmen  of  his 
age  ;  by  whose  command  Blake  dashed  in  pieces  the  sceptre  of 
Spain,  and  bowed  even  the  nobility  of  Holland.  Some  there 
are  who  find  a  fitting  comparison  between  his  deeds  and  those 
of  some  despots  of  later  date.  As  well  compare  rats  to  lions. 
For  around  his  name  so  distinct  an  aureole  of  light  gathers, 
that  we  shall  refuse  to  see  the  justice  of  the  comparison  with 
even  the  greatest  statesmen  of  antiquity.  And  while  we  rejoice 
that  the  exigency  of  our  nation,  since  his  age,  has  not  needed 
such  a  man,  we  shall  see  in  him,  and  his  appearance,  a  Provi- 


THE   LAST   DAYS   OF   GllOMWELL.  229 

dence  not  less  distinct  than  that  wliich  scattered  the  Armada  ; 
wliich  maps  out  the  great  predispositions  and  predestinations  of 
history  ;  which  gave  ns  an  English  birth  ;  which  disposes  all 
great  events,  and  has  resoui'ces  of  great  men  to  answer  and 
bless  a  people's  prayer. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Cromwell's  contemporaries  :  sir  harry  vane. 

The  name  of  Sir  Harry  Vane  is  better  known  to  the  greater 
number  of  English  readers,  probably,  from  Cromwell's  well- 
known  ejaculation  when  he  was  dissolving  the  Long  Parlia- 
ment, than  from  any  other  association.  His  life  has  not  been 
often  written,  his  works  have  not  been  reprinted,  and,  of  the 
great  statesmen  of  the  age  to  which  he  belonged,  his  name  is 
perhaps  the  most  seldom  pronounced.  Wordsworth  has  indeed 
included  him  in  his  famous  sonnet — 

"  Great  men  have  been  among  us  ;  hands  that  penned 
And  tongues  that  uttered  wisdom— better  none  : 
The  later  Sidney,  Marvell,  Harrington, 
Younij  Vane,  and  others  who  called  Milton  friend." 

Especially  the  lovers  of  true  freedom  should  treat  reverently 
the  name  of  Vane  ;  it  should  be  had  in  everlasting  remem- 
brance. No  character  of  his  times  is  more  consistent  ;  it  was 
elevated  by  the  beauty  of  holiness.  We  have  no  doubt  that 
his  views  were  far  too  ideal  and  abstract  for  practical  states- 
manship ;  he  demanded  too  much  from  human  nature  beneath 
the  influence  of  other  principles  ;  there  was  very  much  of  the 
crochetiness  and  impossibility  of  Baxter  in  him,  but  no  man 
Avas  more  elevated  and  unselfish  in  all  his  aims.  It  would  be 
ditficult  to  find  a  character  so  confessedly  unselfish.  He  was, 
in  an  eminent  degree,  possessed  of  that  virtue  we  denominate 
magnanimity  ;  his  views  were  great,  his  plans  were  great,  and 
he  was  prepared  to  a  corresponding  self-sacrifice  in  order  to 
realize  and  achieve  them. 

While  this  was  the  case — while  in  a  most  true  and  compre- 
hensive sense  he  was  a  Christian,  and  while  Christianity  was  to 
him  not  an  intellectual  system  of  barren  speculative  opinions — 
he   was  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  onlv,  in  his  life,  a  target  for 


HIS   CONTEMPORAEIES  :   SIR  HARRY  VAKE.  531 

malignity  to  shoot  its  sharp  arrows  at  ;  and  since  his  martyr- 
dom, or  murder,  men  like  Drs.  Manton  and  Cotton  Mather, 
who  might  have  been  expected  to  treat  his  name  with  tender- 
ness, have  been  among  his  maligners.  The  account  of  him  by 
Baxter  is  in  that  excellent  man's  usual  vein  of  narrowness  and 
bitterness  when  writing  of  those  whose  opinions  were  adverse 
to  his  own.  He  is  only  a  "  fanatic  democrat,"  almost  a 
papist,  and  quite  a  juggler  ;  while  Hume,  when  he  comes  to 
touch  upon  his  life  and  writings,  only  iinds  them  "  al)solute]y 
unintelligible"  (it  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  that  he  had  ever 
looked  at  or  attempted  to  read  one  of  them)  "  exhibiting  no 
traces  of  eloquence  or  common  sense."  While  Clarendon  was 
only  able  to  sneer  at  him,  and  at  his  memory,  as  "  a  perfect 
enthusiast,  and,  without  doubt,  did  believe  himself  inspired." 
"  Anthony  Wood,"  as  Forster  says,  "  foams  at  the  mouth" 
(there  was  much  of  the  mad  dog  in  that  Wood)  when  he  even 
mentions  him.  "  In  sum,  he  was  the  Proteus  of  his  times,  a 
mere  hotch-potch  of  religion,  a  chief  ringleader  of  all  the 
frantic  sectarians,  of  a  turbulent  spirit  and  a  working  brain,  of 
ji  strong  composition  of  choler  and  melancholy,  an  inventor  not 
only  of  whimseys  in  religion,  but  also  of  crotchets  in  the  State 
(as  his  several  models  testify),  and  composed  only  of  treason, 
ingratitude,  and  baseness."  Glad  should  we  have  been  had 
Mr.  John  Forster  do  for  the  memory  of  Sir  Harry  Vane  what 
he  has  done  for  that  of  Sir  John  Eliot.  From  a  load  of 
calumny  and  misrepresentation  heaped  over  his  murdered 
remains,  it  is  the  duty  of  all  who  reverence  the  rights  of  con- 
science to  relieve  his  name.  Few  of  those  who  have  ascended 
the  scaffold  for  freedom  deserve  more  fervent  and  affectionate 
regards  at  the  Imnds  of  those  they  have  blessed  by  their  hero- 
ism than  he.  Perhaps  few  of  the  innumerable  travellers  who 
turn  aside  to  walk  through  Raby  Woods,  or  to  survey  the  mag- 
nificent masses  of  Raby  Castle,  the  great  northern  seat  of  the 
Duke  of  Cleveland,  call  to  mind  the  fact  that  he  is  the  lineal 
descendant  of  that  Vane  who,  for  maintaining  precisely  that 
which  gave  to  the  peer  a  dukedom,  with  all  its  heraldries, 


:^32  OLIVEH   CROMWELL. 

expiated  that  which  was  in  his  age  an  offensive  crime  by  losing 
his  head  on  Tower  Hill. 

We  have  been  unable,  with  any  satisfaction,  to  discover 
whether  the  patriot  was  born  in  Raby  Castle  ;  but  the  only 
worthy  likeness  we  have  seen  of  him  hangs  in  the  recess  in  the 
beautiful  drawing-room  there.  There,  no  doubt,  many  of  his 
days  were  passed  ;  it  was  his  patrimony  and  inheritance  ; 
thence  he  issued  several  of  those  tracts  which  startled,  even  if 
they  did  not  enlighten,  his  contemporaries  ;  thence  especially 
issued  his  famous  "  Healing  Question,"  which  so  aroused  the 
ire  of  Cromw-ell. 

Ilis  father,  the  elder  Sir  Harry  Yane,  was  the  first  of  his 
family  who  possessed  Raby  Castle  ;  he  does  not  commend  him- 
self much  to  any  higher  feelings  of  our  nature.  The  mother  of 
Vane  was  a  Darcey,  and  his  name  mingles  with  some  of  the 
noblest  families  of  England.  His  father  was  high  in  favor  at 
Court  ;  but  very  early  it  became  manifest  that  the  son,  neither 
in  the  affairs  of  Church  or  State,  was  likely  to  follow  the  pre- 
scriptions of  mere  tradition  and  authority.  At  the  age  of 
fourteen  or  fifteen,  he  says  on  his  trial,  "  God  was  pleased, to 
lay  the  foundation  or  groundwork  of  repentance  in  me,  for  the 
bringing  me  home  to  Himself  by  His  wonderful  rich  and  free 
grace,  revealing  His  Son  in  me,  that,  by  the  knowledge  of  the 
only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ,  whom  He  hath  sent,  I  might, 
even  while  here  in  the  bod}',  be  made  partaker  of  eternal  life, 
in  the  first  fruits  of  it."  He  studied  at  Westminster  School, 
then  at  Magdalen  College,  Oxford  ;  then  he  travelled  in 
France,  and  spent  some  time  in  Geneva.  What  was  wanting 
to  confirm  the  impressions  he  had  received  was  given  to  him 
there  ;  he  came  home  to  j)erplex  and  astonidi  his  father,  who 
was  simply  a  vain  vacillating  courtier,  only  desirous  to  stand 
well  with  whatever  miglit  be  likely  to  pay  best.  Laud  took 
the  young  recusant  in  hand,  we  may  believe  with  astonishing 
results  ;  exactly  wdiat  we  might  conceive  from  an  interview  of 
calm,  clear  reason,  with  that  ridiculous  old  archprelatical 
absurdity.     Vane  sought  the  home  and  the  counsels  of  Pym. 


HIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :    SIR   HARRY    VAXE.  233 

Tf  the  lawyer  was  not  likely  to  help  or  to  deepen  his  purely 
religious  convictions,  at  any  rate  he  would  not  interfere  with 
them  ;  while  the  touch  of  his  political  wisdom  would  be  like  a 
spark  of  purifying  fire  upon  his  mind,  consuming  all  the  false 
and  confusing  notions  which  must  inevitably  have  sought  to 
nestle  there  beneath  such  an  influence  as  that  his  father  would 
seek  to  exercise  over  him.  He  went  to  America.  Bold  in 
conception,  with  a  rich,  only  too  dreamy  imagination,  perhaps 
little  prognosticating  the  strange  career  through  which  England 
was  to  pass,  impatient  of  conventionalities,  sick  to  the  soul 
of  the  divisions  and  heart-burnings  of  the  Church,  forecasting 
and  dreading  the  ambition  of  Strafford,  and  the  cruel,  narrow 
resolution  of  the  king  ;  the  vrretched  superstition  of  Laud, 
rocking  to  and  fro  in  his  old  Gothic  chair  of  abuses,  like  an 
Archimage  with  his  dim  blear  eyes  ; — it  seemed  natural  to  the 
young  man  that  America  should  furnish  him  with  all  he  needed. 
America  was  the  hope  of  the  world  then.  It  was  the  sanc- 
tuary and  the  shrine  of  freedom,  especially  of  free  faith  and 
opinion.  The  young  dreamer  reached  Boston  early  in  1635, 
and  was  admitted  to  the  freedom  of  Massachusetts  on  the  3d 
of  March  in  the  same  year,  and  he  became  Governor  of  Massa- 
chusetts the  following  year.  He  was  but  a  youth  in  years,  but 
the  creed  of  his  future  life  was  remarkably  brought  out  and 
illustrated  in  the  story  of  his  government.  It  was  a  brief 
period  too,  for  he  took  his  passage  home  in  August,  1637. 
He  did  not,  as  Richard  Baxter  so  wrongly  says,  steal  away  by 
night,  but  he  stepped  on  board  openly,  with  marks  of  honor 
from  his  friends  ;  large  concourses  of  people  followed  him  to 
the  ship  with  every  demonstration  and  mark  of  esteem,  and 
parting  salutes  were  fired  from  the  town  and  castle.  He,  no 
doubt,  found  the  dreams  he  had  entertained  when  he  set  foot 
on  those  shores  dissolve  ;  who  has  not  known  such  dreams  and 
Bucli  dissolutions  ?  There  was  little  space  for  freedom  of  opin- 
ion to  thrive  in  there  ;  his  great  thought  of  and  faith  in 
universal  toleration  was  intolerable,  even  to  many  of  the  noblest 
people  of  that  age,  and  especially  to  the  ruling  minds  of  Massft- 


234  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

cliusetts.  Vane,  even  in  those  earliest  years,  wlien  lie  was 
getting  his  harness  on,  was  clear  in  his  perceptions  of  the 
rights  of  the  human  soul.  We  do  not  enter  here  into  the  inci- 
dents of  his  government  of  the  young  colony  ;  we  do  not  even 
touch  upon  his  conduct  with  reference  to  his  vindication  of 
Airs.  Hutchinson,  a  proceeding  which  brought  him  so  severe  a 
measure  of  reprehension  then  and  after.  We  believe  he  was 
nobly  right,  and  only  in  advance  of  his  age.  He,  no  doubt, 
learned  much  in  the  period  of  his  residence  in  New  England 
which  fitted  him  for  service  on  a  larger  and  far  more  important 
field.  A  nobler  career  awaited  him  very  shortly  after  his 
return. 

After  a  short  period  of  retirement,  during  which  he  married 
Frances  Wray,  daughter  of  Sir  Christopher  Wray,  of  Ashby, 
in  Lincolnshire,  we  find  him  elected,  in  1640,  member  for  the 
borough  of  Kingston-upon-Hull,  illustrious  predecessor  of 
Andrew  Marvell  in  the  representation  of  that  place.  This  step, 
which  gave  him  the  opportunity  for  a  prominent  use  of  his 
eminent  abilities,  filled  the  Court,  the  king,  and  his  father  too, 
with  alarm,  and  instant  steps  were  taken  "  to  propitiate  the 
possible  hostility  of  the  young  and  resolute  statesman."  He 
received  the  honor  of  knighthood,  he  was  elevated  to  the  oflSce 
of  Treasurer  of  the  Navy,  with  Sir  William  Russell.  Again,  in 
the  same  year,  he  was  elected  member  for  Hull,  to  serve  in  the 
Long  Parliament  ;  but  his  own  course  was  clear  and  unswerv- 
ing. When  the  appeal  to  arms  was  made  by  Charles,  he 
resigned  the  patent  of  office,  but  was  instantly  reappointed 
Treasurer  of  the  Navy  by  the  Parliament,  and  he  gave  a  singu- 
lar instance  of  his  patriotism.  The  fees  of  his  office  were  great 
in  times  of  peace,  but  in  times  of  war  they  became  enormous, 
amounting  to  about  £30,000  per  annum.  These  vast  emolu- 
ments he  resigned,  only  stipulating  that  a  thousand  a  year 
should  be  paid  to  a  deputy.  Before  this  he  had  acquired  a 
notoriety  which  many  have  thought  not  enviable,  as  being  the 
chief  means,  the  most  distinct  witness,  in  proving  the  intended 
t-reason  of  Stratford  :  he  discoyered  in  the  ro4  velvet  cabinet 


HIS    CONTEMPORARIES  :    SIR    HARRY    VANE.  235 

those  papers,  the  notes  of  a  conference,  in  which  Strafford's 
counsels  had  been  of  such  a  nature,  that  Vane  could  only,  as  a 
patriot,  reveal  them  to  Pyrn.  Pym,  upon  the  occasion  of  the 
great  impeachment,  revealed  them,  and  Vane  avowed  the 
authenticity  of  the  revelation.  It  decided  the  fate  of  the  Earl. 
It  must  also  have  been,  if  that  were  wanting,  a  more  inevitable 
step,  deciding  Vane's  political  relations  also  ;  henceforth  he 
became  a  star  in  the  Parliamentary  firmament,  and  with  inces- 
sant activity  he  committed  himself  to  the  affairs  of  his  country. 
He  soared,  indeed,  above  party  strifes,  or  if  he  served  with  a 
party,  it  was  with  that  which  we  identify  -with  the  names  of 
Pym  and  Hampden.  For  the  lower  sections  of  political  dis- 
pute he  had  no  ear,  neither  had  he  any  ear  for  any  of  the  innu- 
merable frays  of  opinion  in  religion,  with  which,  in  those  days, 
the  kingdom  rang  from  end  to  end.  There  was  no  life  for  him 
but  in  conviction  ;  he  ever  lived  too  much  aloof  from  those 
walks  in  wliich  inferior  minds  were  to  be  found.  On  his  trial 
he  says,  referring  to  the  part  he  took  in  his  mission  to  Edin- 
burgh, where  he  assisted  in  framing  the  Solemn  League  and 
Covenant  with  Scotland  : 

"  Nor  will  I  deny  but  that,  as  to  the  manner  of  the  prosecu- 
tion of  the  Covenant  to  other  ends  than  itself  warrants,  and 
with  a  rigid  oppressive  spirit  (to  bring  all  dissenting  minds  and 
tender  consciences  under  one  uniformity  of  Church  discipline 
and  government),  it  ivas  utterly  ayainst  my  judgment.  For-I 
always  esteemed  it  more  agreeable  to  the  Word  of  God,  that 
the  ends  and  work  declared  in  the  Covenant  should  be  pro- 
moted in  a  spirit  of  love  and  forbearance  to  differing  judgments 
and  consciences,  that  thereby  we  might  be  approving  ourselves 
in  doing  that  to  others  which  we  desire  they  should  do  to  us, 
and  so,  though  on  different  principles,  be  found  joint  and 
faithful  advances  of  the  reformation  contained  in  the  Covenant, 
both  public  and  personal." 

For  a  long  period  Vane  wrought  with  Cromwell  in  seeking 
to  bring  the  affairs  of  the  Civil  Wars  to  an  issue.  He  and 
Cromwell  wrought  together  the  plan   of  the  celebrated  Self- 


236  OLIVER    CROJIWELL. 

denying  Ordinance,  in  1644-1045  ;  it  decided,  as  our  readers 
remember,  the  campaign  ;  and,  from  1649  to  1653,  it  has  been 
truly  said  the  power  and  ability  of  his  executive  ruled  Eng- 
land :  he  was  the  director  of  those  great  achievements  in  which 
Blake  asserted  and  maintained  the  supremacy  of  England  on 
the  seas  ;  his  genius  devised  the  means  by  which  the  Dutch 
flag,  which  had  waved  triumphantly  and  insolently  in  defiance, 
suffered  signal  humiliation.  Those  were  the  days,  as  we  have 
seen,  when  Van  Tromp,  after  having  driven  Blake  into  harbor 
with  the  loss  of  two  sail  only,  although  the  Dutch  admiral  had 
eighty  and  the  English  only  thirty- seven  perfectly  equipped 
ships  under  his  command,  hoisted  a  "broom  at  his  masthead, 
as  if  he  had  swept  his  antagonists  from  their  own  waters.  Sir 
Harry  Vane  presented  his  estimates  and  demands  for  supplies, 
and  he  procured  a  resolution  that  £40,000  per  month  should  be 
appropriated  to  the  arsenals  and  navy-yards  ;  he  prepared  and 
brought  in  a  Bill  ;  he  met  with  singular  bravery  and  sagacity 
the  great  national  emergency.  Blake  was  set  afloat  with  no 
less  than  fourscore  ships  of  war,  and  Van  Tromp  was  in  turn, 
as  we  know,  driven  from  the  English  Channel. 

He  also  devised  a  Bill  for  the  reform  of  English  representa- 
tion, in  its  particulars  exceedingly  like  that  known  as  the  Eng- 
lish Reform  Bill  of  our  day.  A  bold  and  most  remarkable 
measure  ;  for  it  was  the  design  of  this  great  spirit  all  along  to 
secure  for  the  country  constitutional  liberty  ;  its  aim  was  to 
make  it  impossible  for  a  tyrant  like  Charles  to  dominate  again 
over  English  freedom.  "V\'as  the  country  prepared  for  any- 
such  measure  ?  Surely  the  result  of  a  few  years  abundantly 
proved  it  was  not  ;  but  noble  men  and  free  pure  minds  arc 
wont  to  estimate  the  average  mind  from  their  own  standard — it 
is  the  error  of  lofty  intelligences  in  all  things.  Vane  was  mov- 
ing ever  in  the  lofty  light  of  the  Empyrean.  Perhaps  he 
knew,  theoretically,  that  the  heart  is  deceitful,  and  that  man  is 
fallen  ;  but  he  was  wont  to  act  as  trusting  man  ;  thus  he  gave 
to  the  political  suffrages  of  the  people  immense  additions  by 
his   proposed   measure.      It   was,    however,    not   destined   to 


HIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :    SIR   MaRRY   VA^'E.  237 

receive  the  indorsement  of  legal  sanction.  It  has  been  usual 
to  be  very  severe  on  Cromwell  ;  but  no  doubt  he  knew  the  art 
of  governing,  and  its  depths  and  demands,  better  than  the  pure 
and  spiritual  Vane.  It  is  one  point  to  bid  our  readers  to 
notice  how,  at  this  time  and  in  these  matters,  the  brain  of 
Cromwell  and  the  hand  of  Vane  worked  together.  It  "was 
probably  at  this  period  that  Milton  addressed  to  Vane  his  well- 
known  sonnet,  with  the  strencrth  of  wiiich  is  combined  also  a 
fine  discrimination  of  the  great  statesman's  character,  and  those 
various  marks  of  eminence  and  goodness  which  give  to  him  so 
considerable  a  claim  upon  our  admiration  : 

' '  Vane,  young  in  years,  but  in  sage  counsel  old. 

Than  whom  a  better  senator  ne'er  held 

The  helm  of  Eome,  when  gowns,  not  arms,  repelled 
The  fierce  Epirot  and  the  Afric  bold  ; 
Whether  to  settle  peace,  or  to  unfold 

The  drift  of  hollow  states  hard  to  be  spelled  ; 

Then  to  advise  how  "War  may,  best  upheld, 
Move  by  her  two  main  nerves,  iron  and  gold. 

In  aU  her  equipage  :  besides  to  know 
Both  spiritual  power  and  civil,  what  each  means, 

What  severs  each,  how  hast  thou  learned,  which  few  have  done  : 

The  bounds  of  either  sword  to  thee  we  owe  ; 
Therefore,  on  thy  firm  hands  Eeligion  leans 

In  jjeace,  and  reckons  thee  her  eldest  son." 

A  fine,  ethereal,  abstract  spirit  :  we  see  how,  when  forced 
by  immediate  and  pressing  necessity,  he  was  compelled  to  deal 
with  the  difficulties  of  the  hour,  such  as  the  raising  of  £-10,000 
a  month  to  fit  out  the  fleet  for  Blake  to  sweep  the  Hollanders 
from  our  seas,  lie  came  down  upon  his  necessities  like  swift 
lightning,  astounding  the  House  by  his  bold  and  daring  methods 
for  raising  the  money  ;  and  in  a  similar  spirit  of  swift  and  clear- 
glancing  intelligence,  he  recast  the  representation  of  England. 

AVe  are  constrained  to  think  that  the  moment  selected  for 
tile  introduction  of  this  measure  was  verv  unpropitious.  It  led 
to  the  final  rupture  between  Vane  and  Cromwell.  Cromwell, 
as  we  know,   dissolved  the  House,   was  guilty  of  that  great 


23S  Oliver  Cromwell. 

crime,  or  conquest,  which  has  divided  the  opinions  of  histo- 
rians since,  which  some  have  called  Usurpation,  while  some 
have  called  it  the  illegitimate  exercise  of  power  for  saving  and 
patriotic  purposes.  It  was  then  those  words  were  uttered, 
"  Sir  Harry  Vane  !  Sir  Harry  Vane  !  the  Lord  deliver  me  from 
Sir  Harry  Vane  !"  Cromwell  alluded  to  Vane  when  he  said, 
"  One  person  might  have  prevented  all  this,  hut  he  was  a  jug- 
gler, and  had  not  common  honesty  ;  the  Lord  had  done  with 
him,  however,  and  chosen  honester  and  worthier  instruments 
for  carrying  on  his  work."  How  can  we  ever  adequately  esti- 
mate the  misconceptions  and  the  misunderstandings  of  great, 
good  men  ?  We  believe  in  Vane,  and  we  believe  in  Cromwell. 
How  can  the  faiths  be  reconciled  ?  Only  in  the  remembrance 
that  Vane  was  eminently  and  consistently  a  Republican  ;  Crom- 
well never  was.  Mr.  Forster  seems  ever  to  forget  this  in  his  lives 
of  the  statesmen  of  the  period.  Was  it  not  as  possible  for  Crom- 
well to  be  true  to  his  conception  of  Reformation  and  Government 
as  the  Republicans  ?  Cromwell  never  desired  the  dissolution  of 
the  ancient  monarchy.  He  would  have  saved  Charles,  but  that 
the  treason  and  faithlessness  of  Charles  made  it  impossible  ; 
the  king  was  his  own  destroyer.  We  know  how  the  nation 
was  split  into  parties.  Cromwell  desired  to  restore  the  nation 
to  unity,  and  he  took  such  a  course  as  best  enabled  it  to  rise 
to  this  restoration.  A  few  days  after  the  so-called  usurpation 
found  Vane  quietly  settled  in  Raby  Castle  ;  and,  shortly  after, 
at  Belleau,  in  Lincolnshire,  he  prosecuted  those  studies  of 
learning,  philosophy,  and  religion,  or,  as  his  biographer  says, 
"  waited  patiently  for  the  first  fitting  occasion  for  striking 
another  stroke  for  the  good  old  cause." 

He  was  a  restless  spirit.  He  was  restless  with  the  restless- 
ness of  Baxter,  his  old  foe.  AVe  see  many  points  of  resem- 
blance between  him  and  Baxter,  in  his  keen  metaphysics,  his 
earnest  impracticable  practicalness,  his  incessant  activity,  his 
intense  desire  to  see  his  own  ideas  realized,  his  impatience  of 
other  men's  ideas.  We  do  not  charge  him  with  the  querulous- 
ness  of  Baxter.     His  mind  moved  in  so  large  and  healthful  an 


HIS    CONTEMPOKARiES  :    SIR   HARRY   VANE.  239 

orbit  that  there  was  imparted  a  grand  manliness  to  all  his 
desio;ns.  His  mind  and  understanding  have  been  likened  to 
the  laboratory  in  a  vast  palace,  where  all  his  readings  and  spec- 
ulations, the  results  of  his  experience  and  learning,  were  under- 
going analysis,  and  falling  into  the  proportion  of  symmetrical 
grandeur.  Within  that  palace,  who  looks  may  behold  all  in 
perfect  order,  peace,  and  consistent  restfulness.  We  have  said 
the  youth  who  at  twenty-three  was  Governor  of  Massachusetts, 
had  arrived  so  early  at  the  knowledge  of  and  faith  in  the 
principles  for  which  he  contended  throughout  his  life,  and  for 
which,  in  the  very  prime  and  fulness  of  manhood,  he  died  a 
martyr's  death.  This  has  not  been  sufficiently  noticed. 
Hence,  when  from  his  retirement  among  the  woods  and  towers 
of  Raby  he  sent  out  his  bold  impeachment  of  Cromwell's  Gov- 
ernment, especially  that  piece  called  "  A  Healing  Question," 
in  which  he  suggested  the  idea  of  a  fundamental  constitution, 
pleaded  for  what,  no  doubt,  was  regarded,  and  in  fact  was,  a 
visionary  form  of  organization,  anticipating  that  which  Wash- 
ington so  many  years  after  gave  to  America,  we  are  not  to  see 
a  mere  restless  agitator,  but  one  who,  having  been  second  to  no 
person  in  the  nation,  possessed  of  the  means  of  princely  rest, 
with  tastes  the  highest  and  most  cultivated,  was  ready  to  im- 
peril all  for  his  dream.  We  have  said  both  of  the  great  men 
have  our  affectionate  gratitude  and  admiration.  We  quite  see 
how  it  was  that  while  Cromwell  was,  no  doubt,  startled  in 
Whitehall  by  the  apparition  of  the  "  Healing  Question"  from 
Raby,  while  the  fame,  the  higli  services,  the  eminent  rank  and 
great  genius  of  the  writer  might  cast  a  shade  over  that  royal 
face,  a  sadness  over  that  noble  heart,  they  did  not  permit  him 
to  hesitate.  His  old  friend  was  instantly  summoned  before  the 
Council.  He  made  his  appearance  directly,  and,  having  been 
briefly  questioned  concerning  his  authorship  of  the  "  Healing 
Question,"  and  having  refused  to  give  a  security  in  a  bond  of 
£5000  to  do  nothing  to  the  prejudice  of  the  present  Gevern- 
ment  and  Commonwealth,  he  was  committed  prisoner  to  Caris- 
brooke  Castle,  the  chambers  of  which  had  been  so  recently 


240  •  OLIVER    CEOMWELL. 

tenanted  by  tlie  deposed  and  discrowned  king.  ^Vli}-,  what  else 
could  Cromwell  do  ?  That  was  no  moment  for  playing  off 
ethereal,  fanciful  pictures  of  phantom  republics  before  the  eyes 
of  the  nation.  It  may  be  all  very  well  for  Mr.  Forster,  and 
writers  of  that  school,  to  whine  and  cant  about  the  purity  of 
Washington,  the  tyranny  of  the  Usurper,  and  such  kind  of 
stuff.  There  go  two  facts  to  all  this.  Washington  was,  no 
doubt,  very  pure  ;  but  he  had  a  whole,  united  people  with 
him.  At  the  worst  there  were  but  two  parties — those  who 
were  in  secrecv  with  the  Enp-lish  Government  :  and  the  vast 
united  mind  of  the  people,  one  with  themselves  !  But  Eng- 
land was  torn  into  factions  innumerable  ;  this  is  no  moment  to 
say  how  many.  Numberless  little  coteries  of  hissing  snakes 
and  slippery  eels  were  wriggling  and  twisting  toward  desired 
eminence.  As  we  have  said,  Cromwell  never  was  a  republican 
— less  so  now  than  ever.  Shouts  of  "  Usurper  !"  "  Tyrant  !" 
"  Traitor  1"  "  Deceiver  !"  from  other  factions  ;  "  Detestable 
wretch  !'*  "  Murderer  I"  were  met  by  the  calm  lightning  of 
that  deep,  clear  gray  eye.  "  Very  likely,  gentlemen  ;  just  as 
you  please,  about  all  such  pleasant  epithets.  Meantime,  dis- 
tinctly understand  that  I  am  liere  somehow  or  other.  T  have 
some  notion  that  T  have  been  put  here  by  the  Eternal  God, 
who  raiseth  up  and  casteth  down.  Xoble  natures,  you  will 
please  to  understand  that  I  am  ruler  here  to  save  you  from 
clammy  eels  or  hissinix  snakes  ;  and  vou,  Messieurs  Eels  and 
Snakes,  put  yourselves  into  the  smallest  compass,  if  you  please,  ■ 
or,  by  that  Eternal  God  that  sent  me,  so  much  the  worse  for 
you  !"  The  poor,  dear  Cromwell  !  we  can  quite  conceive  that 
an  infinite  grief  came  over  him  as  he  sent  his  old  friend  to 
Carisbrooke.  Again,  we  say,  what  else  could  he  have  done  ? 
Vane  would  not  promise  allegiance,  and  Cromwell  would  stand 
no  nonsense.  Noble,  royal  creatures  both  !  The  world  would 
be  a  poor  world  without  dreamy,  visionary  Vanes,  forecasting 
by  their  faith  and  holiness  and  self-sacrifice  the  horoscope  of 
future  ages  ;  but  we  stand  by  Cromwell.     There  are  moments 

in  the  histories  of  nations  when  the  resolute  hand  of  a  states- 

r 


flIS   CONTEMPORARIES  .'  SIR  HARRY   VANE.  241 

man,  not  less  strong  than  wise,  not  less  sagacious  than  kind,  is 
needed  to  repair  the  breaches,  to  strengthen  the  bulwarks,  and 
even  the  rather  to  do  the  work  of  to-day  than  that  of  to-mor- 
row. Still,  we  are  not  eulogizing  Cromwell  now  ;  but  we  are 
not  disposed  to  treat  this  diversity  of  the  two  great  men  as  if 
either  of  them  were  inconsistent  with  himself. 

How  long  he  continued  a  prisoner  in  Carisbrooke  Castle  no 
documents  before  us  very  distinctly  specify.  He  certainly  was 
there  for  such  a  period  that  he  was  able  to  follow  the  course  of 
his  meditations  through  several  works,  which  found  their  way 
into  print.  From  thence  he  published  his  treatise  "  On  the 
Love  of  God  and  Union  with  God  ;"  and  as  just  then  Harring- 
ton published  his  famous  "  Oceana,"  Sir  Harry  wrote  his 
"  Needful  Corrective  ;  or.  Balance  in  Popular  Government." 
The  writings  of  Sir  Harry  Vane,  like  manj^  of  those  of  his 
illustrious  contemporaries,  lie  now  forgotten  and  unreprinted. 
That  with  which  his  name  is  especially  connected  is  "  The 
Retired  Man's  Meditations."  In  the  intolerant  spirit  of  the 
age  in  which  he  lived,  ajid  in  which  he  had  so  little  part,  this 
work  was  sometimes  called  "  a  wicked  book."  "  A  piece  of 
mystical  divinity  ;"  Cotton  Mather,  in  his  "  Magnalia, " 
expresses  himself  thus  of  it,  citing  the  opinions  of  no  less  a 
person  than  Dr.  Manton.  We  must  express  wonder  ourselves 
that  it  is  not  better  known  ;  but  it  belongs  to  an  order  of  books 
of  that  period  very  little  studied.  How  many  of  our  readers 
are  acquainted  with  the  writings  of  Peter  Sterry,  Cromwell's 
chaplain  ?  His  "  Rise,  Race,  and  Royalty  of  the  Children  of 
God,"  or  his  "Freedom  of  the  Will?"  How  many  are 
acquainted  with  Everard's  "  Gospel  Treasury,"  or  with  the 
"  Evangelical  Essays"  of  George  Sykes,  Vane's  close  and  inti- 
mate friend  and  biographer  ?  It  is  to  this  order  of  books  we 
must  assign  "  The  Retired  Man's  Meditations."  It  seems, 
although  its  preface  is  dated  from  Belleau,  to  have  been  written 
at  Raby,  where  he  spent  the  first  and  most  peaceful  portion  of 
his  time  after  Cromwell's  assumption  of  power  ;  it  was  proba- 
bly, what  its  title  purports,  a  retired  man's  meditations.      We 


243  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

purpose  in  some  few  words  to  vindicate  the  book  from  Hume's 
sneer  of  being  "  absolutely  unintelligible,  without  any  trace  of 
eloquence  or  common  sense."  We  do  not  believe  Hume  ever 
attempted  to  read  the  book.  Hume's  method  of  writing  his 
history  and  arriving  at  his  conclusions  is  now  verj'  well  known. 
Lord  Clarendon,  more  bitter  in  his  hatred  of  Vane,  as  is  most 
natural,  than  Hume,  after  all  his  depreciating  malignity, 
expressed  the  ground  of  the  truth  when  he  said,  '*  The  subject- 
matter  of  Vane's  writing  is  of  so  delicate  a 'nature  that  it 
requires  another  kind  of  preparation  of  mind,  and,  it  may  be, 
another  kind  of  diet,  than  men  are  ordinarily  supplied  with." 
No  doubt  the  book  is  mystical  ;  few  of  the  writers  we  prize  of 
that  period  were  not  mystical.  What  more  mystical  than  the 
"  Pilgrim's  Progress"  ?  We  do  not  find  the  "  Retired  Man's 
Meditations"  more  mystical  than  "  The  Saints'  Everlasting 
Rest."  Some  years  since,  a  very  able  and  interesting  paper 
appeared  in  the  Westminster  Review,  suggesting  some  points  of 
analogy  between  Vane  and  Bunyan.  The  testimony  from  such 
a  quarter  is  most  remarkable,  and  as  just  as  it  is  remarkable. 

Cromwell  died,  as  we  know,  on  the  anniversary  day  of  his 
great  battles  of  Worcester  and  Dunbar,  September  3d,  1658. 
Richard  Cromwell,  as  we  also  know,  attempted  that  which, 
whatever  might  have  been  his  personal  excellence,  was  utterly 
impossible  to  his  jilacid  and  unstatesmanlike  genius — the  gov- 
ernment of  the  country  in  the  hour  when  every  breaker  and 
billow  of  the  political  ocean  was  beating  upon  its  shores.  Of 
course  we  are  not  in  this  place  prepared  to  discuss  at  any  length 
the  causes  of  his  memorable  failure,  only  so  far  as  the  circum- 
stances are  related  to  our  subject.  Vane,  naturally,  emerged 
instantly  from  his  retirement,  and  became  an  object  of  terror, 
certainly  of  alarm,  to  the  new  Protector  ;  for  Vane  carried 
with  him  an  amazing  popularity  and  consideration  with  many 
great  parties  of  the  nation,  especially  of  that  strong  but  humble 
republican  party,  the  members  of  which,  now  that  the  strong 
warrior-prince  was  dead,  were  mustering  together  from  their 
country-seats  and  places  of  exile.     Vane  offered  himself  as  a 


HIS   CONTEMPORARIES  :    SIR    HARRY    VANE.  243 

candidate  for  his  old  borough  of  Kingston-npon-IIuU — for 
whicli  place  he,  indeed,  claimed  to  be  considered  as  the  lawful 
representative,  as  neither  he  nor  his  party  acknowledged  the 
dissolution  of  the  Long  Parliament,  although  compelled  to  sub- 
mit to  it — and  he  was  returned  by  a  majority  of  votes,  but  the 
Cromwell  party  gave  the  certificate  of  his  election  to  another. 
He  then  proceeded  to  Bristol,  with  exactly  the  same  results. 
He  then  stood  for  Whitechurch,  in  Hampshire,  and  by  his 
return  for  this  really  inconsiderable  borough  he  was  now  able 
to  occupy  the  place  which  the  Cromwell  party  had  so  much 
dreaded  in  the  House  of  Commons.  This  is  the  circumstance 
to  which  Baxter  so  ungenerously  alludes  when  he  speaks  of  him 
as  "  the  rejected  of  three  boroughs/'  which,  however,  was  not 
the  case.  As  we  read  the  story  of  that  brief  and  mournful 
struggle,  whatever  admiration  we  may  give  to  the  magnanimity 
of  Vane  and  his  coadjutors,  we  are  unable  to  spare  much  sym- 
pathy. Wo  become  impatient  and  exasperated  while  we 
behold  these  heroic  and  splendid  stragglers,  men  of  large 
capacity,  of  immense  faith  in  their  principles,  pouring  about 
their  oratory,  declamation,  and  invective  ;  spinning  their  clever 
tactics  for  displacing  Richard  Cromwell,  aud  rearing  their 
phantom  republics,  while  the  subtle  Monk  was  hatching  his 
schemes,  and  the  dastardly  Charles  Stuart  cracking  his  jokes 
over  his  intended  feats  of  murder  and  treason.  And  for  these 
brave  spirits  the  wood  was  being  prepared  for  the  scaffold,  and 
the  headsmen  sharpening  their  axes  and  preparing  their  ropes  ! 
Oh,  it  is  a  mournful  business — strange  1  How  different  is  the 
aspect  of  affairs  to  posterity  than  to  the  living  actors  in  a  great 
drama  !  With  Vane  as  their  chief,  w'rought  Algernon  Sidney, 
and  other  such  masculine  and  majestic  men.  If  ever  there 
existed  men  who  seem  to  our  minds  to  realize  the  colossal  type 
of  Roman,  Coriolanus-like  greatness,  these  were  the  men. 
They  thought  they  were  acting  to  prevent  the  vile  Stuarts' 
return  ;  we  suppose  of  any  party  there  now  scarcely  lives  one 
who  does  not  see  that  they  took  exactly  the  course  to  hasten  it. 
The  clear,   ringing  eloquence,  especially   of  Sir  Harry  Vane, 


244  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

sounds  like  the  mournful  toll  of  English  freedom  ;  high,  great 
sentiments  heave  out  in  that  instantaneous  attack  he  organized 
upon  the  Government,  and  the  right  of  Richard  Cromwell,  im- 
mediately on  taking  his  seat  in  the  House.  He  resisted  the 
Government,  especially  from  the  fear  that  it  would,  by  its 
weakness,  accelerate  the  return  of  the  king.  Again  and  again 
he  exclaims,  "Shall  we  be  underbuilders  to  supreme  Stuart  ? 
Shall  we  lay  the  foundation  of  a  system  that  must  bring  a 
Charles  the  Second  back  to  us,  sooner  or  later  ?"  Much  of  his 
language  has  a  scorn,  a  personal  invective,  of  so  bitter  a  kind, 
that  we  grieve  to  hear  it  from  the  lips  of  Vane.  Here  is  a 
passage  : 

"Mr.  Speaker:  Among  all  the  people  of  the  universe,  I 
know  none  who  have  shown  so  much  zeal  for  the  liberty  for 
their  country  as  the  English  at  this  time  have  done  ;  they  have, 
by  the  help  of  Divine  Providence,  overcome  all  obstacles,  and 
have  made  themselves  free.  We  have  driven  away  the  heredi- 
tary tyranny  of  the  House  of  Stuart,  at  the  expense  of  much 
blood  and  treasure,  in  hopes  of  enjoying  hereditary  liberty, 
after  shaking  off  the  yoke  of  kingship  ;  and  there  is  not  a  man 
among  us  who  could  have  imagined  that  any  person  would  be 
so  bold  as  to  dare  to  attempt  the  ravishing  from  us  that  free- 
dom, which  cost  us  so  much  blood  and  so  much  labor.  But  so 
it  happens,  I  know  not  by  what  misfortune,  we  are  fallen  into 
the  error  of  those  who  poisoned  the  Emperor  Titus  to  make 
room  for  Domitian,  who  made  away  with  Augustus  that  they 
mio-ht  have  Tiberius,  and  chano;ed  Claudius  for  Nero.  I  am 
sensible  these  examples  are  foreign  from  my  subject,  since  the 
Romans  in  those  days  were  buried  in  lewdness  and  luxury  ; 
whereas  the  people  of  England  are  renowned,  all  over  the 
world,  for  their  great  virtue  and  discipline,  and  yet  suffer  an 
idiot  without  courage,  without  sense,  nay,  without  ambition,  to 
have  dominion  in  a  country  of  liberty  !  One  could  bear  a  little 
with  Oliver  Cromwell,  though,  contrary  to  his  oath  of  fidelity 
to  the  Parliament,  contrary  to  his  duty  to  the  public,  contrary 
to  the  respect  he  owed  that  venerable  body  from  whom  he 


HIS    CONTEMPORAKIES  :    SIR   HARRY   VANE.  245 

received  his  autliority,  lie  usurped  the  Government.  His  merit 
was  so  extraordinary  that  our  judgments,  our  passions,  might 
be  blinded  by  it.  He  made  his  way  to  empire  by  the  most 
illustrious  actions  ;  he  had  under  his  command  an  army  that 
had  made  him  a  conqueror,  and  a  people  that  had  made  him 
their  general.  But  as  for  Richard  Cromwell,  his  son,  who  is 
lie  ? — what  are  his  titles  ?  We  have  seen  that  he  had  a  sword 
by  his  side  ;  but  did  he  ever  draw  it  ?  And  what  is  of  more 
importance  in  this  case,  is  he  fit  to  get  obedience  from  a 
mighty  nation,  who  could  never  make  a  footman  obey  him  ? 
Yet  we  must  recognize  this  man  as  our  king,  under  the  style  of 
Protector  !  —  a  man  without  birth,  without  courage,  without 
conduct.  For  my  part,  I  declare,  sir,  it  shall  never  be  said 
that  I  made  that  man  my  master. ' ' 

Well,  words  like  these  drove  the  naturally  quiet  man  to  his 
obscurity  at  Cheshunt.  He  abdicated,  and  never  appeared  in 
public  again.  And  now  rapidly  hastened  the  movement  of 
Monk,  for  in  the  brief  period  which  remained  in  the  inextrica- 
ble coil  of  affairs,  Vane  became  President  of  the  Council  of  the 
nation  ;  but  Monk  held  the  army,  and  the  glorious  moments  of 
English  freedom  and  justice  were  drawing  to  a  close.  Charles 
returned  ;  an  immense  and  most  gracious  indemnity  was  pro- 
cured to  all.  Vane  had  taken  no  part  in  the  trial  and  execu- 
tion of  Charles  I.,  and  when  the  king  returned,  he  continued  in 
his  house  at  Hampstead  ;  but  he  was  one  of  the  very  first  made 
to  translate  the  king's  sense  of  his  promised  Act  of  Indemnity  ; 
he  was  arrested  in  July,  1660,  and  flung  into  the  Tower. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Clarendon  and  Charles  had  deter- 
mined on  his  murder  from  the  very  first.  From  many  consid- 
erations he  was,  probably,  the  strongest  man  in  England  ;  it 
was  a  very  difficult  thing  to  find  grounds  for  an  indictment,  and 
for  two  years  he  continued  in  prison.  He  was  removed  from 
the  Tower  to  a  lonely  castle  in  one  of  the  Scilly  Isles.  There, 
utterly  severed  from  all  communication  with  his  family,  or  any 
of  his  great  comrades,  he  was  consigned,  only  to  hear  the 
winds  raving  round  the  turrets  of  his  prison,  or  the  moaning 


346  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

sea  dashing  at  its  base.  In  such,  states  this  great  man  seems  to 
shine  out  with  more  dignity  and  beauty.  What  were  his 
thoughts  there,  what  his  consolations  or  occupations,  we  have 
no  means  of  very  well  knowing,  excepting  by  the  result,  when 
those  great  traitors  to  English  freedom,  having  procured  a  more 
supple  Parliament,  and  having  manipulated  and  manoeuvred, 
with  ingenious  dexterity,  their  determination  upon  his  life, 
recalled  him  to  London.  Meantime,  his  friends  were  in  the 
grave  or  in  exile  ;  their  bodies,  like  his,  were  immured  in  dun- 
geons, or  the  scaffold  had  drunk  their  blood.  A  letter  to  his 
wife,  too  long  to  quote,  furnishes  proof  of  the  fine  texture  of 
his  character,  reveals  his  own  resolution,  and  in  subtle  and 
concealed  hints,  his  assurance  that  he  would  soon  be  called  to 
die.  Some  of  his  purest  thoughts  also  occur  in  his  paper, 
entitled  "Meditations  on  Death."  He  was  nerving  himself 
for  the  inevitable  end.  Such  passages  as  the  following  show 
this  : 

His  Meditation  in  Prison  on  Death. 

"  Death  is  the  inevitable  law  God  and  nature  have  put  upon 
us.  Things  certain  should  not  be  feared.  Death,  instead  of 
taking  away  anything  from  us,  gives  us  all,  even  the  perfection 
of  our  natures  ;  sets  us  at  liberty  both  from  our  own  bodily 
desires  and  others'  domination  ;  makest  the  servant  free  from  his 
master.  It  doth  not  bring  us  into  darkness,  but  takes  darkness 
out  of  us,  us  out  of  darkness,  and  puts  us  into  marvellous  light. 
Nothing  perishes  or  is  dissolved  by  death  but  the  veil  and 
covering  which  is  wont  to  be  done  away  from  all  ripe  fruit. 
It  brings   us  out  of  a  dark  dungeon,  through  the  crannies  * 

*  It  is  impossible  not  to  remember  Waller's  most  charming  lines, 
which  seem  an  almost  literal  translation  into  verse  of  these  words 
and  sentiments  of  Vane  : 

"  The  soul's  dark  cottage,  battered  and  decayed, 
Lets  in  new  light  through  chinks  which  time  has  made ; 
Stronger  by  weakness,  wiser  we  become, 
As  we  draw  near  to  our  eternal  home." 


HIS    CONTEMPORAKIES  :    SIR    HARRY   VAN"E.  247 

whereof  our  sight  of  light  is  but  weak  and  small,  and  brings  us 
into  an  open  liberty,  and  estate  of  light  and  life,  unveiled  and 
perpetual.  It  takes  us  out  of  that  mortality  which  began  in 
the  womb  of  our  mother,  and  now  ends  to  bring  us  into  that 
life  which  shall  never  end.  This  day,  which  thou  fearest  as 
thy  last,  is  thy  birthday  into  eternity. 

"  Death  holds  a  high  place  in  the  policy  and  great  common- 
wealth of  the  world.  It  is  very  profitable  for  the  succession 
and  continuance  of  the  works  of  nature." 

Again  : 

"  It  is  most  just,  reasonable,  and  desirable,  to  arrive  at  that 
place  toward  which  we  are  always  walking.  Why  fearest  thou 
to  go  whither  all  the  world  goes  ?  It  is  the  part  of  a  valiant 
and  generous  mind,  to  prefer  some  things  before  life,  as  things 
for  which  a  man  should  not  doubt  nor  fear  to  die.  In  such  a 
case,  however  matters  go,  a  man  must  more  account  thereof 
than  of  his  life.  He  must  run  his  race  with  resolution,  that  he 
may  perform  things  profitable  and  exemplary." 

Thus  the  nobler  English  Seneca  consoled  and  strengthened 
himself  : 

"  There  is  a  time  to  live  and  a  time  to  die.  A  good  death 
is  far  better  and  more  eligible  than  an  ill  life.  A  wise  man 
lives  but  so  lono-  as  his  life  is  more  worth  than  his  death.  The 
longer  life  is  not  always  the  better.  To  what  end  serves  a  long 
life  ?  Simply  to  live,  breathe,  eat,  drink,  and  see  this  world. 
What  needs  so  long  a  time  for  all  this  ?  Methinks  we  should 
soon  be  tired  with  the  daily  repetition  of  these  and  the  like 
vanities.  Would  we  live  long  to  gain  knowledge,  experience, 
and  virtue  ?  This  seems  an  honest  design,  but  is  better  to  be 
had  other  ways  by  good  men,  when  their  bodies  are  in  the 
grave. ' ' 

Again  : 

"  It  is  a  great  point  of  wisdom  to  know  the  right  hour  and 
fit  season  to  die.  Many  men  have  survived  their  own  glory. 
That  is  the  best  death  which  is  well  recollected  in  itself,  quiet, 
solitary,  and  attendeth  wholly  to  what  at  that  time  is  fittest. 


348  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

"  They  that  live  by  faith  die  daily.  The  life  which  faith 
teaches  works  death.  It  leads  up  the  mind  to  things  not  seen, 
which  are  eternal,  and  takes  it  off,  with  its  affections  and 
desires,  from  things  seen,  which  are  temporary." 

We  pass  over  his  pathetic,  high-toned,  and  beautiful  letter 
to  his  wife.  We  notice,  however,  such  passages  as  the  fol- 
lowing : 

"  Have  faith  and  hope,  my  dearest.  God's  arm  is  not 
shortened  ;  doubtless  great  and  precious  promises  are  yet  in 
store  to  be  accomplished  in  and  upon  believers  here  on  earth, 
to  the  making  of  Christ  admired  in  them.  And  if  we  cannot 
live  in  the  power  and  actual  possession  of  them,  yet  if  we  die 
in  the  foresight  and  embracing  of  them  by  faith,  it  will  be  our 
great  blessing.  This  dark  night  and  black  shade  which  God 
hath  drawn  over  His  work  in  the  midst  of  us,  may  be,  for 
aught  we  know,  the  ground-color  to  some  Beautiful  piece  that 
He  is  now  exposing  to  the  light. 

****** 

"And  why  should  such  a  taking  up  sanctuary  in  God,  and 
desiring  to  continue  a  pilgrim  and  solitary  in  this  world,  while 
I  am  in  it,  afford  still  matter  of  jealousy,  distrust,  and  rage,  as 
I  see  it  doth  to  those  who  are  unwilling  that  I  should  be  buried 
and  lie  quiet  in  my  grave  where  I  now  am.  They  that  press 
so  earnestly  to  carry  on  my  trial  do  little  know  what  presence 
of  God  may  be  afforded  me  in,  and  issue  out  of  it,  to  the 
magnifying  of  Christ  in  my  body,  by  life  or  by  death.  Nor 
can  they,  I  am  sure,  imagine  how  much  I  desire  to  be  dis- 
solved and  to  be  with  Christ,  which  of  all  things  that  can 
befall  me  I  account  best  of  all.  And  till  then,  I  desire  to  be 
made  faithful  in  my  place  and  station,  to  make  confession  of 
Him  before  men,  and  not  deny  His  name,  if  called  forth  to 
give  a  public  testimony  and  witness  concerning  Him,  and  to  be 
herein  nothing  terrified." 

He  was  removed  from  Scilly  to  the  Tower  of  London,  about 
March,  1662,  and  he  was  brought  before  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench  on  the  2d  of  June,  1662,     The  indictment,  which  he 


Hlij   CONTEMPORARIES  :    SIR    HARRY   VANE.  240 

was  not  permitted  to  see  before  it  was  road,  nor  permitted  to 
have  a  copy  of  afterward,  charged  him  with  compassing  and 
imagining  the  death  of  Charles  II.,  and  conspiring  to  subvert 
the  ancient  frame  of  the  king  by  government  of  the  realm. 
Even  for  that  heinous  year,  when  law  was  a  mockery,  the 
grounds  of  the  indictment  of  Sir  Harry  Vane  are  marvellous 
in  their  wickedness.  Will  it  be  believed  now,  by  ordinary 
readers,  that  one  of  the  first  items  of  the  impeachment  was  that 
which  we  have  designated  as  his  illustrious  and  majestic  de- 
fence of  the  English  seas  ;  sweeping  the  waves  of  our  narrow 
Channel  free  of  Van  Tromp,  with  his  broom  at  the  masthead. 
This  report  of  "  an  estimate  of  the  number  of  ships  for  the 
summer  guard  of  the  narrow  seas  ;"  a  "  levy  of  £20,000  on 
South  Wales  for  the  fitting  out  this  fleet,"  which  was  "  to  be 
paid  to  Sir  Harry  Vane,  as  Treasurer  of  the  Navy  ;"  warrants 
for  the  production  of  firelocks  and  drums  ;  warrants  for  the 
commission  of  officers  of  the  army,  bearing  his  authority  ; 
warrants  for  delivering  arms  and  barrels  of  powder  to  regi- 
ments. Such  were  the  items  of  this  memorable  indictment. 
Perhaps  the  more  serious,  although  hypothetical,  was  the  fol- 
lowing : 

' '  Then  one  Marsh  was  produced  a  witness,  who  proves  that 
Sir  Henry  Vane  proposed  the  new  model  of  Government, 
Whitlock  being  in  the  chair,  in  these  particulars  : 

"1.  That  the  supreme  power,  delegated  by  the  people  to 
their  trustees,  ought  to  be  in  some  fundamentals  not  dispensed 
with. 

"  2.  That  it  is  destruction  to  the  people's  liberties  (to 
which  by  God's  blessing  they  are  restored)  to  admit  any  earthly 
king  or  single  person  to  the  legislative  or  executive  power  over 
the  nation. 

"  3.  That  the  supreme  power  delegated  is  not  entrusted  to 
the  people's  trustees,  to  erect  matters  of  Faith  or  Worship,  so 
as  to  exercise  compulsion  therein." 

''  Thomas  Pury  proves  that  he  was  at  the  debating  of  the 
two  last  of  these  propositions,  and  believes  they  were  proposed 


250  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

to  the  Chairman  Whitlock  by  Sir  Henry  Vane  ;  but  affirms 
confidently  that  Sir  Henry  Vane  gave  reasons  to  maintain 
them." 

Of  course,  the  argument  with  reference  to  the  navy   pro- 
ceeded upon  the  principle  that  to  sustain  the  army  and  navy 
was  to  keep  the  king  out  of  his  possession.      The  trial  was  a 
nefarious  business.      Ludlow  somewhere  remarks  in  liis  inter- 
esting life,  that  upon  his  trial,  Sir  Harry  Vane  pleaded  rather 
for  the  life  and  liberties  of  his  country  than  for  his  own  ;  he 
addressed  himself  to  his  task  in  a  spirit  of  roya^  cheerfulness, 
and  with  overwhelming  tact  and  eloquence  set  aside  the  validity 
of  the  charges.      His  convincing  charges  took  from  his  prose- 
cutors the  power  of  reply,  and  the  Chief  Justice,  Forster,  was 
heard  to  say  :   "  Though  we  know  not  what  to  say  to  him,  we 
know  what  to  do  to  him."     After  Vane's  closing  defence,  the 
.Solicitor-General,  in  a  speech  of  singular  execrable  brutality, 
declared  to  the  jury,  that  "  the  prisoner  must  be  made  a  public 
sacrifice,"  and,  in  reply  to  Vane's  protest  that  he  had  not  been 
permitted   to  have   the  benefit   of   counsel,    the   same   worthy 
asked,  "  What  counsel  did  the  prisoner  think  would,  or  durst 
speak  for  him,  in  such  a  manifest  case  of  treason,  unless  he 
could  call  down  the  heads  of  his  fellow-traitors  from  Westmin- 
ster   Hall."     The    Solicitor-General    was    even    permitted    to 
whisper  to  all   the  members  of  the  jury  as  they  left  the  box. 
They    deliberated    half    an    hour,  and    returned    a    verdict   of 
"  Guilty."     There   had   been   some  foolish   expectation   that, 
even  then,  his  life  might  be  saved  ;  but  Charles  and  Clarendon 
were  even  nervously  anxious  for  his  murder.      Mr,  Forster  pro- 
duces the  following  letter  from  Charles  to  Clarendon,  the  day 
after  his  trial,  and  before  liis  sentence  : 

"  The  relation  that  has  been  made  to  me  of  Sir  Henry 
Vane's  carriage  yesterday  in  the  hall,  is  the  occasion  of  this 
letter,  which,  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  was  so  insolent  as  to 
justify  all  he  had  done,  acknowledging  no  supreme  power  in 
England  but  a  Parliament,  and  many  things  to  that  purpose. 
You  have  had  a  true  account  of  all  ;  and  if  he  has  given  new 


HIS   CONTEMPORARIES  ;    SlR   HARRY    VaNT.  25) 

occasion  to  be  hanged,  certainly  he  is  too  dangerous  a  man  to 
let  live,  if  we  can  honestly  put  him  out  of  the  way.  Think  of 
this,  and  give  me  some  account  of  it  to-morrow,  till  then  1 
have  no  more  to  say  to  you. — C.  R. " 

Called  up  for  his  sentence,  there  were  circumstances  of  con- 
siderable excitement  in  the  court.  He  submitted,  for  instance, 
first,  "  Whether  Parliament  were  accountable  to  any  inferior 
Court."  Second,  "Whether  the  king,  being  out  of  posses- 
sion— "  here  the  Court  broke  in  upon  him  with  great  vehe- 
mence, declaring,  "the  king  never  was  out  of  possession." 
With  exceeding  coolness  he  replied,  that  "the  indictment 
against  him,  then,  must  inevitably  fall  to  the  ground,  for  the 
one  charge  alleged  against  him  was  that  he  endeavored  to  keep 
out  His  Majesty."  It  was  unanswerable.  The  excitement 
became  intense  ;  in  the  midst  of  it  he  desisted  from  all  further 
attempts,  folded  up  his  papers,  solemnly  appealed  from  the 
tribunal  to  the  judgment  of  God,  reminding  the  judges  that 
before  that  judgment  they  would  all  at  last  be  brought,  and 
expressed  his  willingness  to  die  for  his  testimony.  Abusive 
Serjeant  Keeling  broke  in  here,  "  So  you  may,  sir,  in  good 
time,  by  the  grace  of  God."  This  was  he  who,  in  a  previous 
hour  of  the  trial,  when  Vane  was  reading  a  passage  from  a 
volume  of  the  Statutes,  desiring  to  look  at  it,  attempted  to 
snatch  it  rudely  from  his  hands  Vane  withheld  and  closed 
the  volume,  exclaiming,  "  When  I  employ  you  as  my  counsel^ 
sir,  I  will  find  you  books."  He  was  sentenced  to  execution 
on  Tower  Hill.  English  lawyers  have,  since  then,  pronounced 
the  sentence  "  infamous."  Even  Justice  Forster,  who  tried 
him,  is  quoted  by  Mr.  Forster  as,  by  implication,  in  his 
apology  condemning  the  verdict.  The  case  only  stands  on 
record  as  a  selection  of  the  most  marked  and  conspicuous  man 
in  the  nation  as  the  subject  of  royal  revenge.  He  was  con- 
demned on  Wednesday  ;  he  was  to  die  on  Saturday. 

A  little  volume  before  us,  from  which  we  have  already 
quoted,  contains  many  of  liis  occasional  speeches  ;  they  ought 
to  be  better  known.      Sometimes,,  in  his  speeches  in  the  House 


s 


252  OLIVER   CHOMWELLi 

of  Commons,  we  have  thought  we  detected  the  marks  of  irrita" 
tion  and  petulance.  But  there  are  no  such  indications  in  these 
words  ;  a  calm,  seraphic  glow  pervades  them  all,  a  full  assur- 
ance of  faith,  a  hope  of  glory.  He  does  not  condescend  to 
indulge  in  any  remarks,  even  upon  either  his  adversaries  or  his 
unpropitious  trial  ;  there  seems  only,  if  that  may  be  said,  too 
great  a  desire  to  depart  and  to  have  done  with  it  all.  The 
prayer  with  his  wife  and  children  and  some  of  his  friends  the 
night  before  his  execution,  which  his  friend  Sykes  has  pre- 
served, is  a  wonderful  rapture  of  elevated  and  sustained  and 
earnest  devotion.  It  is  full  of  pithy  pieces  ;  especially  he 
prays,  "  Let  thy  servant  see  death  shrink  under  him  ;  what  a 
glorious  sight  will  this  be,  in  the  presence  of  many  witnesses, 
to  have  death  shrink  under  him,  which  he  acknowledged  to  be 
only  by  the  power  of  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ,  whom 
the  bands  of  death  could  not  hold  down  ;  let  that  spirit  enter 
into  us  that  will  set  us  again  "upon  our  feet."  He  adores  God 
the  Father  because,  "  Thou  art  rending  this  veil  and  bringing 
us  to  a  mountain  that  abides  firm."  He  prayed  for  his 
family  : 

"  Prosper  and  relieve  that  poor  handful  that  are  in  prisons 
and  bonds,  that  they  may  be  raised  up  and  trample  death 
under  foot.  Let  ray  poor  family  that  is  left  desolate,  let  my 
dear  wife  and  children  be  taken  into  Thy  care,  be  Thou  a  hus- 
band, father,  and  master  to  them.  Let  the  spirits  of  those 
that  love  me  be  drawn  out  towards  them.  Let  a  blessing  be 
upon  these  friends  that  are  hero  at  this  time,  strengthen  them, 
let  them  find  love  and  grace  in  thine  eyes,  and  be  increased 
with  the  increasings  of  God.  Show  Thyself  a  loving  Father  to 
us  all,  and  do  for  us  abundantly,  above  and  beyond  all  we  can 
ask  or  think,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake."     Amen. 

After  this,  at  about  midnight,  came  the  warrant,  for  his 
execution  the  following  day  ;  the  next  morning  he  said  there 
was  "  no  dismalness  in  it  after  the  receipt  of  the  warrant  ;  I 
slept  four  hours  so  soundly,  that  the  Lord  hath  made  it  sufli- 
cient  for  me,  and  now  I  am  going  to  sleep  my  last,  after  wliich 


HIS  COKTEMPOEARIES  :   SIE   HARRY   VANE.  253 

I  shall  need  to  sleep  no  more."  He  seems  to  have  met  his 
wife  and  children  again  that  day  early  in  the  forenoon,  and 
parting  with  them,  said,  "  There  is  some  flesh  remaining  yet, 
but  I  must  cast  it  behind  me,  and  press  forward  to  my 
Father."  The  sheriff  came  to  him  and  said  he  could  not  be 
ready  for  half  an  hour  yet.  "  Then,  sir,"  said  Sir  Harry,  "  it 
rests  with  you,  for  I  have  been  ready  this  half-hour."  It  was 
thought  at  first  that  he  would  have  to  walk  to  execution  ;  the 
sledge  had  not  arrived  ;  at  length  it  came,  and  he  said,  "  Any 
way,  how  they  please  ;  I  long  to  be  at  home,  to  be  dissolved, 
and  to  be  with  Christ,  which  is  best  of  all."  He  went  down- 
stairs from  his  chamber  and  seated  himself  in  the  sledge,  his 
friends  and  servants  standing  by  him,  and  Sykes  accompanying 
him  to  the  close.  As  they  passed  along,  it  was  like  a  royal 
procession  ;  shouts  and  gestures  were  made  to  him  ;  the  tops 
of  the  houses  were  crowded,  and  all  the  windows  thronged  ; 
even  the  prisoners  of  the  Tower,  as  he  passed  along,  and  the 
thronging  multitudes  by  his  side,  and  the  people  looking  down 
on  the  procession,  exclaimed,  "  The  Lord  go  with  you  ;  the 
great  God  of  heaven  and  earth  appear  in  you  and  for  you. " 
As  he  came  within  the  rails  of  the  scaffold,  the  pathetic  voices 
of  the  people  greeted  him  with  like  acclamations,  crying  out, 
"  The  Lord  Jesus  be  with  thy  dear  soul  !"  One  voice  shouted 
to  him,  "  That  is  the  most  glorious  seat  you  ever  sat  on  !" 
"  It  is  so,  indeed,"  he  replied  in  a  cheerful  voice.  When  he 
appeared  in  front  of  the  scaffold,  in  his  black  suit  and  cloak, 
with  scarlet  silk  waistcoat,  the  victorious  color,  many  supposed 
he  was  some  person  connected  officially  with  the  execution,  or 
some  looker  on.  They  were  amazed  to  find  in  that  great  and 
noble  presence  the  prisoner  who  was  to  die.  "  How  cheerful 
he  is  !"  said  some  ;  "  He  does  not  look  like  a  dying  man  !" 
said  others  ;  with  other  such  astonishing  speeches.  The  scene 
at  his  execution  was,  on  the  part  of  the  Government,  disgrace- 
ful. Vane  was  calm  enough  to  attempt  to  address  the  multi- 
tude coherently  ;  he  had  promised  to  say  nothing  reflecting  on 
the  king  or  Government,  nor  does  it  seem  that  he  attempted  to 


^54  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

do  SO.      He  was  hustled,  his  papers  snatched  from  his  hands, 
taken  from  his  pocket  ;  even  then,  in  the  midst  of  all,  he  pre- 
served a  serene  and  composed  demeanor.      When  he  attempted 
to  speak,  the  trumpets  sounded  to  drown  his  voice.      Enthusi- 
asm wept  for  him,  while  it  admired  him  !   .  At  last  he  turned 
aside,  exclaiming,  "It  is  a  bad  cause  which  cannot  hear  the 
words  of  a  dying  man."     He  seems  to  have  been  permitted  to 
pray  a  little  in  peace  ;  such  sentences  as  the  following  fell  from 
him,  recorded  by  Sykes  :   "  Bring  us,   O' Lord,  into  the  true 
mystical  Sabbath,  that  we  may  cease  from  our  works,  rest  from 
our  labors,   and  become  a  meet  habitation  for  Thy  Spirit," 
etc.,  etc.      His  last  words  were,  "  Father,   glorify  Thy  servant 
in  the  sight  of  men,  that  he  may  glorify  Thee  in  the  discharge 
of   his   duty   to   Thee    and   to  his   country."     Thereupon   he 
stretched  out  his  arms  ;  in  an  instant,  swift  fell  the  stroke,  and 
the  head  of   one  of  the  greatest  and  purest  beings  that  ever 
adorned   our  world,    rolled  on  the  scaffold  :    Old   Pepys   was 
there,  and  in  his  book  he  tells  us  how  he  had  a  room  on  Tower 
Hill,  that  he  might  see  the  whole  affair.      He  testifies— and  he 
was   in   a   Government   office   at  the  time,  as   we  know — that 
"  Vane  changed  not  his  color  nor  spirit  to  the  last  ;  spoke  very 
confidently  of  his  being  presently  at  the  right  liand  of  Christ, 
and   in   all   things   appeared   the   most  resolved  man  that  ever 
<lied  in  that  manner  ;  and  showed  more  of  heat  than  coward- 
ice, but  yet,  withal,    humility  and  gravity."     And  the  testi- 
mony from    an  imbecile  time-server,  like  Pepys,   has  a  little 
measure  of  historic  worth  in  it. 

So  Sir  Harry  went  away  in  his  chariot  to  heaven,  and  Pepys 
tells  us  how  he  "  went  away  to  dinner"  !  A  day  or  two  after, 
he  tells  us  how  "  the  talk  was  that  Sir  Harry  Vane  must  be 
gone  to  heaven,  and  that  the  king  had  lost  more  by  that  man's 
death  than  he  will  gain  again  a  good  wliile."  Sykes  beauti- 
fully and  pathetically  says,  "  Cromwell's  victories  are  swal- 
lowed up  of  death  ;  Vane  has  swallowed  up  death  itself  in  vic- 
tory. He  let  fall  his  mantle,  left  his  body  behind  him,  that  he 
had  worn  for  nine-and-forty  years,  and  has  gone  to  keep  his 


HIS   CONTEMPORAEIES  r   SIR   HARRY    VANE.  255 

everlasting  jubilee  in  0  ;d's  everlasting  rest.  It  is  all  day  with 
liim  now,  no  night  nor  sorrow  more,  no  prison,  nor  death  !" 
Burnet  testifies,  and  Pepys  also  implies  it,  that  his  death  made 
the  foundations  of  the  throne  thrill,  and  almost  shook  it  from 
its  steadfastness. 

The  publishing  of  the  little  pamphlet  of  his  trial,  which  was 
extensively  circulated,  and  his  most  remarkable  biography  by 
Sykes,  set  him  a-talking,  in  a  wonderful  manner,  in  men's 
consciences,  after  his  death.  February  11th,  1663,  Pepys 
testifies  :  "  At  night  my  wife  read  Sir  H.  Vane's  trial  to  me, 
and  I  find  it  a  very  excellent  thing,  worth  reading,  and  him  to 
have  been  a  very  wise  man."  Also  Vane's  pamphlets,  his 
"  Healing  Question,"  his  "  Balance  of  Government,"  and  the 
others,  were  being  read  in  private  meetings  ;  and  his  spirit  was 
at  work,  although  his  body  was  in  the  tomb.  He  was  be- 
headed, but  we  may  believe  that  the  memory  of  his  execution, 
joined  to  the  recollection  of  his  singularly  noble  and  pui-e 
career,  did  something  toward  sweeping  finally,  and  forever,  the 
execrable,  execrated,  and  detested  Stuarts  from  the  throne. 
Clarendon  makes  it  an  article  against  Vane,  that  he  was  "  a 
man  independent  of  all  parties  ;"  and  it  is  for  this  reason, 
since  his  death  Vane  has  received  far  less  justice,  both  at  the 
hands  of  his  contemporaries  and  posterity,  than  most  of  the 
great  characters  of  that  illustrious  period  of  our  history. 
Although  he  was  of  the  Nonconformists,  he  was  too  broad  and 
too  high  in  his  views  to  give  them  much  satisfaction.  If  he 
opposed  the  bishops  and  forfeited  their  favor,  he  would  not 
persecute  Mrs.  Anne  Hutchinson,  and  he  sacrificed  the  favor  of 
the  sectaries  ;  religiously,  while  we  have  indicated  the  frequent 
mysticism  of  his  views,  he  was  immeasurably  in  advance  of  his 
age.  We  love  Richard  Baxter,  but  his  account  of  Vane  is 
singularly  characteristic  of  the  frequent  narrowness,  and  half 
malignant  querulousness  of  the  dear  old  father.  As  Vane  was 
before  his  age  in  religion — a  matter  very  greatly  to  himself — 
so  also  he  was  before  his  age  in  politics.  We  admire  and 
reverence  him,  but  for  the  interests  of  peace  and  for  the  well- 


256  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

ordering  of  the  State  we  are  compelled  to  side  with  Cromwell. 
But  Vane's  life  is,  altogether,  one  that  does  one  good  to  read 
or  to  compile.  There  was  not  a  shred  nor  thread  of  littleness 
in  any  part  of  his  character  ;  its  only  fault  is  its  lofty  ideality. 
Not  one  of  his  numerous  assailants  or  adversaries  has  ever  been 
able,  by  a  breath,  to  touch  or  tarnish  the  pure  mirror  of  that 
excellence.  The  only  possible,  doubtful  circumstance,  is  the 
possession  of  that  paper  from  the  velvet  case,  which  becanae 
evidence  Icadina;  to  the  death  of  Strafford.  We  think  it  can- 
not  be  doubtful  what  any  of  our  readers,  in  such  a  case,  would 
have  done  ;  a  movement  of  Providence  seemed  to  guide  his 
hands  to  that  fatal  case,  and  once  possessed  of  its  information, 
how  could  he  do  otherwise  than  reveal  it  to  his  country  ? 
Altogether,  the  whole  character  of  Sir  Harry  Vane  stands  in  its 
lucid  and  transparent  satisfactoriness  by  the  side  of  the  few 
most  really  elevated  men  of  the  time.  He  represents,  in  full- 
orbed  completeness,  those  principles  in  living  embodiment 
which  adorn  the  political  pages  of  Milton,  which  shine  also  in 
the  career  of  Marvell.  He  had  the  political  righteousness 
which  makes  Pym  and  Hampden  so  venerable  ;  while  he  seems 
to  have  combined,  in  a  rare  manner,  that  patient  Biblical 
research,  that  life  of  devout  thought  and  inquisition,  which 
flames  over  the  pages  of  Howe  ;  the  rarity  of  his  character 
being,  that  beyond  almost  any  other  mighty  politician  to  whom 
we  can  refer,  he  united  the  attributes  of  action,  which  made 
him  powerful  in  "Whitehall,  with  the  attributes  of  contempla- 
tion, which,  as  they  solaced  his  own  spirit  among  the  woods  of 
Raby,  the  retirement  of  Belleau,  or  the  dungeons  of  Scilly, 
prove  even  now  attractive  to  those  who  begin  to  peruse  his 
little  known  but  animating  pages.* 


*  The  bones  of  Vane  seem  to  have  been  stirring  lately  in  resurrec- 
tion ;  two  or  three  papers,  in  addition  to  the  brief  memoir  bj-  John 
Forster,  have  appeared  within  the  last  three  or  four  years.  It  is 
necessary,  therefore,  that  the  present  writer  should  say  that  the 
paper  upon  Vane  which  closes  this  volume  was  substantially  pub- 


HIS   COXTEMPORAEIES  :    SIR   HARRY   VANE.  257 

As,  in  the  earlier  pages  of  the  present  vohime,  the  writer 
placed  among  the  contemporaries  of  Cromwell  the  great  Herald 
of  the  Revolution,  Sir  John  Eliot,  as  illustrating  the  work 
which  had  to  be  done,  and  which  needed  Cromwell  as  the 
strong  Knight-Commander  and  General  in  the  conflict  and  on 
the  field,  so  he  closes  the  volume  with  this  account  of  Crom- 
well's greatest  contemporarj',  in  whose  death  we  behold  the 
departure  of  the  great  prophet  of  the  time.  We  have  seen 
that  the  fine,  pure,  mystical,  and  abstract  spirit  of  Vane  quite 
vindicates  and  authenticates  Cromwell's  impatient  ejaculation. 
The  country  eminently  needed  a  strong,  martial  hand  ;  and  to 
what  the  policy  of  Vane  would  have  conducted  we  see  in  what 
it  came  to  at  last.  It  built  his  own  scaffold  as  well  as  the 
scaffold  of  all  the  great  leaders  of  the  party  ;  and  that  Long 
Parliament,  which  in  its  earliest  days  presents  us  with  one  of 
the  grandest  chapters  of  parliamentary  glory,  in  its  latest  days 
only  compels  us  to  a  feeling  of  execration  for  what  it  effected 
in  bringing  back  the  detested  Stuart.  And  this,  but  for  Crom- 
well, Vane  and  the  party  with  whom  he  worked  would  have 
effected  earlier  ;  and  Cromwell— if  it  be  possible  to  think  thai 
such  a  restoration  could  have  taken  effect  while  he  lived — 
would  have  lost  his  head,  as  well  as  Vane.  As  Cromwell's 
career  shows  us  distinctly  what  the  great  Protector  did,  so  do 
the  closing  years  of  Vane's  life  show  what  that  great  Protector 
averted. 

lished  by  him  about  ten  years  since  in  the  English  Eclectic  Review, 
of  which  he  was  then  editor.  Bvit  the  memory  of  this  great  man 
still  waits  for  an  adequate  biography,  and  the  gathering  up  and  re 
printing  of  his  various  pieces. 


APPENDIX. 


[The  following  BallaSs  are  selected  from  "Lays  and  Legends  op 
Puritan  Heroes,  "  by  the  author  of  the  present  biography,  privately 
l^rinted  but  not  published  some  years  since  ;  their  insertion  in  this 
place  may  not  seem  inappropriate.] 


I. 

The  Faemee  of  St.  Iyes. 

u. 
The  Battle  of  Dunbae. 

HI. 
The  IMaetybdoii  of  Vane. 


THE  FARMEK  OF  ST.  IVES. 

SUGGESTED  BY    THE    PKOPOSAL  TO    EKECT    A   MONUMENT    TO    THE     FAKMEr's 

MEMORY. 

"In  tlie  care- of  the  St.  Ives  Farm  he  now  not  only  sought  employ- 
ment for  some  portion  of  the  ill-subdued  energy  which  always 
craved  in  him  for  action,  but  also  put  to  the  proof  the  value  of  those 
thoughts  we  have  attributed  to  him  after  the  disastrous  Dissolution 
of  1G28.  In  the  tenants  that  rented  from  him,  in  the  laborer  that 
took  service  under  him,  he  sought  to  sow  the  seeds  of  his  after- 
troop  of  Ironsides.  He  achieved  an  infliience  through  the  neigh- 
borhood all  round  him,  unequalled  for  piety  and  self-denying  virtue. 
The  greater  part  of  his  time,  even  ujion  his  farm,  was  i^assed  in  de- 
votional exercises,  expositions,  and  j^rayer.  Who  prays  best  will 
work  best  ;  who  preaches  best  will  fight  best.  All  the  famous  doc- 
trines of  his  later  and  more  celebrated  years  were  tried  and  tested  on 
the  little  Farm  of  St.  Ives." ~ Forsier' s  Lives  of  the  Staiesmen  of  the 
Commonwealth.  "The  shadow  of  Cromwell's  name  overawed  the 
most  confident  and  haughty.  He  intimidated  Holland,  he  humili- 
ated Sjjain,  and  he  twisted  the  siipple  Mazarin,  the  ruler  of  France, 
about  his  finger.  No  agent  of  equal  potency  and  equal  moderation 
had  appeared  upon  earth  before.  He  walked  into  a  den  of  lions, 
and  scoiirged  them,  growling,  out  ;  Bonaparte  was  pushed  in  a  me- 
nagerie of  monkeys,  and  fainted  at  their  grimaces." — Walter  Savage 
Landor. 

Raise  up,  raise  up,  the  pillar  !  some  grand  old  granite  stone, 
To  the  king  without  a  sceptre,  to  the  prince  without  a  throne  ! 
To  the  brave  old  English  hero  who  broke  oiir  feudal  gyves, 
To  the  leader  of  the  "good  old  cause,"  the  Farmer  of  St.  Ives. 

The  old  Plantagenets  brought  us  chains;  the  Tudors  frowns  and  scars; 

The  Stuarts  brought  us  lives  of  shame  ;  the  Hanoverian  wars  ; 

But  this  brave  man,  with  his  strong  arm,  brought  freedom  to  our 

lives  — 
The  best  of  Princes  England  had  was  the  Farmer  of  St.  Ives. 

Oh,  holy,  happy  homestead,  there  where  the  Farmer  dwelt ! 
Around  his  hearth,  around  his  board,  the  wearied  laborers  knelt  ; 
Not  there  the  jest,  the  curse,  the  song, — in  prayer  each  spirit  bides. 
Till  forth  they  came,  a  glorious  throng,  the  brave  old  Ironsides. 


262  OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

Walk  proudly  past  these  hedges,  for  this  is  holy  ground  ; 
Amidst  these  lowly  villages  were  England's  bravest  found  ; 
With  praying  hearts  and  truthfiil,  they  left  their  homes  and  wives, 
And  ranged,  for  freedom's  cause,  around  the  Farmer  of  St.  Ives. 

Hark  !  England  feels  his  tramping,  our  own  Achilles  comes  ; 

His  Watchword,  "  God  is  with  tjs  !"  it  thunders  through  our  homes. 

High  o'er  the  raging  tumult,  hark  !  'tis  the  Farmer's  cry, — 

'  •  Fear  not,   but   put  youk  tbust  in  God,  and  keep  tour  Powder 

DRY." 

Ho  !  Marston,  'neath  the  moonlight,  thy  thousands  owned  his  power. 
Ho  !  Naseby  !  there  the  sceptre  fell  from  out  the  monarch's  power. 
Ho  !  Preston  !  Dunbar  !  Worcester  !  Lo,  there  his  spirit  strives, — 
Hurrah  !  the  tyrants  fly  before  the  Farmer  of  St.  Ives. 

On  many  a  Norman  turret  stern  blows  the  hero  dealt. 

And  many  an  old  Cathedral  nave  his  echoing  footsteps  felt  : 

In  many  a  lonely  mansion  the  legend  still  survives, 

How  prayers  and  blows  pell  mell  came  down  from  the  Farmer  of  St.  Ives. 

He  wrapped  the  purple  round  him,  he  sat  in  chair  of  state. 

And  think  ye  was  not  this  man  King?     The  whole  world  name  him 

Great ! 
The  wary  fox  of  Italy,  and  Botirbon's  sensual  slave. 
And  the  old  bluff  Dutchman,  owned  the  power  of  England's  bold 

and  brave. 

He  was  the  true  defender  of  Freedom  and  of  Faith  ; 
When  through  the  Vaudois  valleys  brave  martyrs  died  the  death  ; 
He  threw  his  banner  o'er  their  homes  and  wrapt  in  it  their  lives  ; 
And  the  Alpine  summits  sung  the  praise  of  the  Farmer  of  St.  Ives. 

His  was  the  wizard  power  ;  he  held  it  not  in  vain  ; 
He  broke  the  tyrant's  iron  rule  and  lashed  them  with  their  chain. 
Oh !  the  shade  of  earth's  great  heroes,  in  all  their  pomp  look  dim, 
Wlien  rose  in  Whitehall's  Palaces  our  great  Protector's  hymn. 

He  died  !  the  good  old  monarch  died  !     Then  to  the  land  returned 
The  cruel,  crowned,  reptile  thing,  that  men  and  angels  spurned  ; 
He  seized  the  bones  as  reptiles  seize  upon  the  buried  dead, 
And  a  fiend's  malice  wrecked  upon  that  venerable  head.* 

*  This  act  has  been  well  described  as  one  of  barbarous  malignity  ;  and  it  is  well 
known  to  have  originated  with  the  restored  Monarch.  It  maybe  interesting  to 
read  the  following  from  the  Gesta  Brittanorum,  at  the  end  of  "  Wharton's  Alma- 


APPENDIX.  :>Go 

And  England,  "while  from  age  to  age  fresh  freedom  she  achieved, 
Forgot  the  hand  that  wrote  the  page  in  which  her  heart  believed  ; 
From  age  to  age  earth  held  his  dust,  a  life  like  other  lives, 
Lo,  you  !  at  length  he  breathes  again,  this  Farmer  of  St.  Ives. 

His  name  shall  Imrn — no  meteor,  no  comet  hurrjdng  by — 
It  shall  return  to  light  our  world  to  future  liberty. 
Let  tyrants  dare  to  trample  hearts  and  liberties  and  lives  ; 
One  name  shall  bid  them  tremble  yet — The  Farmer  of  St.  Ives. 

Unfurl  that  droojiing  banner  !     So  !  let  it  float  again  ; 
Ye  winds  receive  it  in  your  clasp  !  waft  it,  ihou  surging  main  ! 
His  watchword,  "  God  is  with  us  !"  see  ye  it  still  survives  ; 
The  pulse  of  England  beats  like  his — The  Farmer  of  St.  Ives. 

Raise  up,  raise  up,  the  pillar  !  some  grand  old  granite  stone. 
To  the  prince  without  a  sceptre,  to  the  king  without  a  throne  ! 
To  the  brave  old  English  hero  who  broke  our  feudal  gyves. 
To  the  leader  of  the  "  good  old  cause,"  the  Farmer  of  St.  Ives. 

Wkitten  in  Eamsey  Chukchyabd, 
Huntingdonshire,  1848. 


nac  "  for  1663:  "  Januarj-  30,  O.S.  The  odious  carcasses  of  O.  Cromwell,  H.  Ireton, 
and  J.  Bradshaw,  were  drawn  upon  sledges  to  Tyburn,  and  being  pulled  out  of 
their  coffins,  then  hanged  at  the  several  angles  of  that  triple  tree  until  sunset  ; 
then  taken  down,  and  their  loathsome  trui  ks  thrown  into  a  deep  hole  under  the 
gallows.  The  heads  wore  afterwards  set  upon  poles  on  the  top  of  Westminster 
Hall."  The  following  is  the  mason's  receipt  for  taking  up  the  bodies,  as  copied 
from  the  original  by  Dr.  Cromwell  Mortimer,  Seen  tary  of  the  Eoyal  Society: 
"May  the  4th  day,  1661.  Reed  then  in  full,  of  the  Worshipful  Sergeant  Norfolk, 
fiveteeu  shillings  for  taking  up  the  corpses  of  Cromwell,  and  Ireton,  and  Bradshaw. 
Kecd.  by  mce,  John  Lewis." 


THE  BATTLE  OF  DUNBAB. 

(AS   EECITED   BY   ONE   OF   THE   PUEITAN   AEMT,  1686.) 

Come,  gather  round  this  winter  hearth,  and  I  will  tell  a  tale 
Shall  make  the  coldest  heart  beat  high,  and  blanch  the  t\Tant  pale  ; 
Shall  bid  all  true  hearts  to  be  strong,  since  truth  can  never  fail, 
And  warn  the  oppressor  that  his  hour  comes  floating  on  the  gale. 
I'll  tell  you  how,  at  freedom's  call,  arose  the  blast  of  war, — 
I'll  tell  you  how  our  Cromwell  fought  and  conquered  at  Dunbar. 

The  Scots  they  sought  to  conquer  us,  tho'  we  had  lent  them  aid 
To  rend  the  hated  cassock  oflE  from  their  own  mountain  plaid  : 
They  sought  to  gird  our  land  within  the  Presbytery's  shade. 
And  so,  to  crown  Charles  Stuart  King,  they  led  their  Highland  raid — 
To  crush  our  faith  the  Highland  clans  came  flocking  near  and  far, 
And  we  were  there  to  conquer  them,  or  perish,  at  Dunbar. 

Each   English  heart   that   day  beat   high,    with   hope  and   courage 

rare — 
Such  hope  may  England  ever  have,  to  make  her  foes  despair. 
Yet  heavy  was  the  cannon's  roll  and  stern  the  trumpet's  blare  ; 
It  was  not  fear,  but  faith  to  death — /  know,  for  I  was  there. 
This  arm  on  many  a  foeman  laid  the  bloody  brand  of  war. 
When  our  Protector,  Cromwell,  fought  and  conquered  at  Dunbar. 

Like  sheep  for  slaughter  there  we  lay  ;  alas  !  what  power  had  we  ? 
Behind  us  stretched,  all  drear  and  grim,  the  dread  and  awful  sea  ; 
And  there  the  hosts  of  Leslie  lay, — we  could  not  fight  nor  flee  ; 
We  only  knew  the  Lord  of  Hosts  would  our  deliverer  be. 
We  held  His  promise  to  our  hearts,  like  good  news  from  afar. 
He  saved  on  3Iars(on's  bloody  field,  and  why  not  at  Lunhar  ? 

Then  came  the  night— and  such  a  night  !     The  mists  fell  cold  and 

chill, 
The  solemn  tones  of  brooding  winds  were  speaking  on  the  hill. 
The  hum  of  those  two  mighty  hosts  made  stillness  yet  more  still. 
And  girt  with  mailed  bands  the  strength  of  every  iron  will. 
I  looked  o'er  all  the  cloudy  heavens,  but  could  not  see  a  star, 
As  there  we  lay,  beneath  the  shades  and  crags  of  old  Dunbar. 


APPEKDIX.  265 

It  was  a  night  for  daring  deeds  !  dark  clouds,  and  wind,  and  rain  ; 
The  full  moon  faintlj'  touched  the  clouds,  then  veil'd  her  face  again  : 
The  sea  moaned  hoarse,  but  ai;dibly — 'twas  like  a  soul  in  pain  ; 
And  phantom  sounds  and  phantom  sights  were  scudding  o'er  the 

plain. 
I  looked  o'er  all  the  cloudy  heavens— I  coiild  not  see  a  star, 
Nor  light,  save  where  a  flickering  torch  shone  o'er  thy  fields,  Dunbar. 

We  knew  to-morrow's  sum  would  shine  upon  a  bloody  field  ; 

We  could  not  hope   that  we  could  make  those  haughty  thousands 

yield; 
We  could  but  throw  for  our  dear  land  our  bodies  as  a  shield, 
And  charter  with  our  faith  and  blood  the  faith  our  fathers  sealed. 
If  conquest  fled  afar  from  us,  in  this  last  gasp  of  war, 
We'd  leave  our  bones  to  bleach  for  faith  and  freedom  at  Dunbar. 

The  stertorous  hum  of  drowsy  life  rose  upward  through  the  calm, 
And  midst  it  rose  from  out  the  ranks  some  soldier's  pious  psalm  ; 
And  some,  to  quell  their  care,  would  list  the  preacher's  loud  alarm, 
Or  muse  if  they  that  day  might  change  the  haiiberk  for  the  palm, 
Thus  mount  the  fiery  chariot,  from  the  red  smoke  of  war. 
And  pass  to  take  the  crown  of  joy,  from  thy  dread  field,  Dunbar. 

I  could  not  sleep  —I  could  not  watch  ;  I  passed  the  night  alone. 

I   mused — I    could  not    sing,  nor   preach,   nor   bide  the  jDreacher's 

tone. 
Eternity  seemed  crowded  there — things  present,  future,  gone  ! 
And  dark  and  light,  each  sat  by  turns  upon  my  spirit's  throne. 
I  knew  by  many  a  well-fought  field  the  doom  and  dread  of  war, 
3ut  never  doom  or  doubt  so  deep  as  that  of  old  Dunbar. 

We  thought  of  many  a  holy  text  and  promise  made  of  old, — 

Of  Daniel  in  the  lions'  den  (a  sheep  within  the  fold)  : 

And  how  for  Israel's  tribes  the  waves  to  walls  of  safety  roll'd, 

When  they,  like  us,  were  hemmed  and  girt  by  foemen  fierce  and  bold. 

We  held  that  story  to  our  hearts,  like  good  news  from  afar  ; 

The  Lord  would  rise  in  might  for  us  and  conquer  at  Dunbar. 

We  thought  of  him,— the  captain  strong,  the  mighty  Jerubbaal, 

Who  met  the  Midianitish  host  with  numbers  small  and  frail,  — 

And  while  our  lesser  numbers  lay  along  the  misty  vale. 

We  pray'd  that  Gideon's  sword  and  Lord  would  o'er  our  foes  prevail. 

And  while  the  moon  roU'd  murkily  above  thj'  fields,  Dunbar, 

We  thought  of  Him  who  rode  above,  old  Israel's  awful  Fah  ! 


2GG  OLIVER   CROinVELT... 

For  me — old  Gideon  liamited  me  ! — I  saw  his  gleaming  sword, — 
I  heard  the  shont,  I  heard  the  ciy,  I  felt  the  Spirit's  word. 
I  heai'd  the  falling  pitchers  break,  with  one  distinct  accord  ; 
I  felt  my  own  weak  heart  upheld  by  good  news  from  the  Lord  ; 
"  Thoii  canst  not  fail  in  this  dread  hoiir,"  said  I,  "  O  Lord  of  War  ! 
Oh  nerve  oi;r  Gideon's  arm  to  strike  and  conqner  at  Dunbar  !" 

Should  we  so  false  or  fickle  jirove,  or  do  so  mean  a  thing 

As  hail  "the  young  man  Charles"  to  be  our  own  anointed  king  ; 

To  bow  the  knee  to  those  proud  Scots  when  they  their  Prince  should 

bring. 
His  lecheroiis,  craven,  coward  glance  along  our  land  to  fling  ; 
And  we  to  sink  to  faithlessness,  or  bide  the  blast  of  war, — 
Said  I,  No  !  let  us  rot  to  death  beneath  thy  cliffs,  Dunbar. 

A  tramp— a  stej) — and  then  a  voice  :  "  Ha  !  Captain,  who  goes  there? 

Why  these,   methinks,    are   precious   hours   to   sjiend   in   words  of 

prayer." 
Said  I,  "  Lone  hearts  may  catch  the  spark  which  numbers  have  to 

share." 
"  'Tis  well,"  said  he,  and  grasped  my  hand — oh,  honor  high  and  rare  ! 
It  was  the  Gideon  of  our  hosts,  who  led  our  ranks  to  war, — 
Our  mighty  Cromwell  on  his  rounds  the  night  before  Dunbar. 
****** 

Hark  !  was  not  that  the  bugle's  blast?  I  grasped  a  comrade's  hand  : 

Again  that  wild,  swift,  piercing  scream — it  swept  along  the  strand  ; 

It  fell  like  lightning  in  the  midst  of  Leslie's  mighty  band, — 

And  where  with  us  the  heart  lay  cold  the  breath  of  faith  was  fanned  ; 

It  was  the  blast  that  summoned  us  to  dare  the  blaze  of  war 

And  wave  aloft  a  bloody  sword,  high  o'er  thy  field,  Dunbar. 

Shout  answered  shout !  blast  answered  blast !  amidst  the  twilight  dim, 
The  dark  gray  curtain  of  the  dawn  hxmg  bodinglj-  and  grim  ; 
Midst  hailing  shot  and  dj'ing  screams  arose  the  sacred  hymn. 
My  memory  holds  them — I  was  there — else  all  my  senses  swim  ; 
But  pride  will  pant  within  my  heart,  the  pride  and  pomp  of  war, 
Whene'er  I  think  of  fight  so  dread  and  bloody  as  Dunbar. 

Then  rose  the  hurtling  cannon  shower  along  the  startled  coasts. 
Then  dashed  on  Lambert's  iron-hearts  through  Leslie's    scattered 

posts  ; 
Then  rose  their  crj',  "  The  Covexaxt  !"  mid  sneers,  and  Linnts,  and 

boasts. 


APPENDIX.  267 

"  The  Lord  of  Hosts  !"  onr  Captain  cried  :  "  The  Lord,  the  Lord 

OF  Hosts  !' ' 
The  Word  that  healed  our  aching  hearts  in  many  an  ancient  scar,-  - 
That  was  the  word  by  which  we  fought  and  conquered  at  Dunbar. 

'Twas  when  the  storm  of  fight  was  o'er,  the  battle  almost  done, 
From  forth  the  sea,  beyond  the  rocks,  looked  up  the  great  red  sun, 
Our  General  saw  tbe  flying  hosts — "They  Eun  !"   he  cried,  "  They 

Kun! 
Let  God  arise,  and  let  His  foes  be  scattered  !" — we  had  won. 
High  o'er  the  plain  his  voice  arose,  we  heard  it  near  and  far  ; 
So  our  good  Lord  Protector  fought  and  conquered  at  Dunbar.  • 

Then,  halting  on  the  battle  plain,  he  raised,  so  clear  and  loud, 

A  ijsalm  of  praise.     Its  mighty  voice  peal'  d  o'  er  the  awe-struck  crowd  ; 

The  waiTior  dropped  his  blood-red  sword,   the   helmed    head    was 

bowed  ; 
It  reined  at  once  the  mailed  hand  and  checked  the  passion  proud  ; 
It  still'd  the  clash  of  sounding  swords  ;  it  still'd  the  passion's  jar  ;  — 
Oh,  never  saw  the  world  a  field  like  that  of  old  Dunbar  ! 

Ah  me  !  ah  me  !  those  days  are  o'er — the  days  of  shame  are  here  ; 
Our  glorious  Cromwell's  mangled  limbs,  our  Sidney's  bloody  bier  ; 
Our  land  in  chains,  our  faith  proscribed, — forgive  this  falling  tear  ; 
My  heart  is  strong,  my  faith  is  firm,  my  soul  is  dead  to  fear. 
A  sword  !  a  field  !  who  knows  but  we  might  see  hope's  rising  star  V 
A  sword !  a  field  !  our  blow  might  be  as  stout  as  old  Dunbar. 

No,  no  !  not  that,  those  words  are  vain.     War's  bloody  blazing  star. 
It  cannot  light  to  freedom's  world  or  melt  the  dungeon's  bar. 
Swords  cannot  hew  a  way  for  truth.  — they  cannot  make,  but  mar  ; 
They  cannot  shiver  nations'  chains  or  dull  hearts  wake  by  war. 
I  know — for  this  right  arm  was  red  with  conquering  near  and  far. 
And  fain  would  I  unfurl  again  the  banner  of  Dunbar. 


^o" 


NiBLEY,  Gloucestershire,  1856. 


THE  MARTYRDOM  OF  SIR  HARRY  VANE. 

"  Great  men  have  been  among  us,  hands  that  penned, 
And  tongues  that  uttered  wisdom— better  none, 
Young  Vane,  and  others  who  called  Milton  friend. 
These  moralists  could  act  and  comprehend  : 
They  knew  how  genuine  glory  was  put  on  ; 
Taught  US  how  rightfully  a  nation  shone 
In  splendor  :  what  strength  was,  that  would  not  bend 
•  But  in  magnanimous  meekness."' 

—  Wordsworth. 

It  was  thought  at  first  that  he  wonkl  have  to  walk  to  execution  ; 
the  sledge  had  not  arrived.  At  length  it  came,  and  he  said,  "  Any 
way,  how  they  please  ;  I  long  to  be  at  home,  to  be  dissolved,  and  to 
be  with  Christ,  which  is  best  of  all."  He  went  down-stairs  from  his 
chamber,  and  seated  himself  in  the  sledge,  his  friends  and  servants 
standing  by  him,  and  Sykes,  his  friend  and  biographer,  accompany- 
ing him  to  the  close.  As  they  passed  along  it  was  like  a  royal  pro- 
cession ;  shouts  and  gestures  were  made  to  him  ;  the  tops  of  the 
houses  were  crowded,  and  all  the  windows  thronged  ;  even  the  pris- 
oners of  the  Tower,  as  he  passed  along,  and  the  thronging  multi- 
tudes by  his  side,  and  the  jjeople  looking  down  on  the  procession, 
exclaimed,  "  The  Lord  go  with  you  ;  the  great  God  of  heaven  and 
earth  appear  in  you  and  for  you."  As  he  came  within  the  rails  of 
the  scaffold,  the  pathetic  voices  of  the  people  greeted  him  with  like 
acclamations,  crying  oitt,  "  The  Lord  Jesus  be  with  thy  dear  soul." 

His  last  words  were,  "  Father,  glorify  Thy  servant  in  the  sight  of 
men,  that  he  may  glorify  Thee,  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  to  Thee 
and  to  his  country."  Thereupon  he  stretched  out  his  arms,  in  an 
instant  swift  fell  the  stroke,  and  the  head  of  one  of  the  greatest  and 
purest  beings  that  ever  adorned  our  world  rolled  on  the  scaffold.  So 
Sir  Harry  went  away  in  his  chariot  to  Heaven  ;  and  Pepys  tells  us 
how  he  "  went  away  to  dinner  !"  A  day  or  two  after  he  tells  us  how 
"  the  talk  was  that  Sir  Harry  Vane  must  be  gone  to  Heaven,  and 
that  the  King  had  lost  more  by  that  man's  death  than  he  will  gain 
again  a  good  while."  Sykes  beautifully  and  pathetically  says, 
"  Cromwell's  victories  are  swallowed  up  of  death  ;  Vane  has  swal- 
lowed up  death  itself  in  victory.  He  let  fall  his  mantle,  left  his  body 
behind  him,  that  he  had  worn  for  nine-and-forty  years,  and  has  gone 
to  keep  his  everlasting  jubilee  in  God's  everlasting  rest.  It  is  all  day 
with  him  now—no  night  nor  sorrow  more  ;  no  prison,  nor  death  !" 


APPENDIX.  209 

Ho  !  Freemen  of  London,  awake  from  j'our  sleej) ! 
Ho  !  Freemen  !  your  slumbers  are  surely  not  deep  ! 
Awake  !  there  is  treason  afloat  on  the  air. 
The  morning  is  bright  and  the  heavens  are  fair, 
But  dark  are  the  omens  that  mantle  around, 
There  is  boding  and  dread  in  each  murmiiring  sound. 
What  turret  gives  yonder  the  boom  of  the  bell  ? 
'Tis  the  toll  from  the  Tower,  it  is  Liberty's  knell. 
And  the  sun  should  be  curtained  in  darkness  and  rain. 
For  the  day  wakens  up  o'er  the  scaifold  of  Vane. 

'Twas  the  day  when  our  Nero  was  throned  for  a  king, 
If  Nero  be  named  by  so  shameless  a  thing  ; — 
AVhen  the  land,  like  a  lazar-house,  lay  in  despair, 
And  vice,  like  a  pestilence,  haunted  the  air. 
Not  long  since  the  bloodhounds  lay  chained  in  despair, 
The  lion  was  monarch  ;  they  shrank  from  his  lair. 
The  lion  was  dead,  but  the  bloodhounds  for  prey 
Made  a  feast  of  the  monarch  who  held  them  at  bay  ; 
But,  to  freshen  their  fangs  with  a  blood  rich  in  stain. 
They  howled  and  they  leaped  round  the  scaffold  of  Vane. 

'Twas  his  morning  of  death,  but  he  lay  in  a  sleep, 

Like  the  slumbers  of  infancy,  tranquil  and  deep  ; 

And  his  face  in  his  slumber  reflected  the  light 

Of  the  phantoms  that  passed  by  his  pillow  at  night. 

Sleep  on  !  'tis  thy  last  sleei^  — no  more  shall  thine  eye 

Close  on  scenes  of  the  earth  till  it  wakes  to  the  sky  ; 

So  freshen  thy  spirit,  brave  soldier,  to  bear 

•The  last  frown  of  sorrow,  the  last  glance  of  care  ; 

And  gird  up  thy  spirit  to  front  thy  last  pain, 

And  let  Time  point  with  pride  to  the  scaft'old  of  Vane. 

Thro'  the  mind  of  the  dreamer  the  shades  of  the  past 
Were  crowding  and  flitting  so  thronging  and  fast  : 
Now  the  far  Susquehanna's  bright  forests  were  seen. 
And  the  camps  of  the  Avilderness,  glowing  and  green. 
He  remembered  the  days  of  his  youth;  but  no  sigh 
Proclaimed  that  remorse  or  confusion  stood  by. 
He  can  look  on  the  past,  but  his  spirit  is  still ; 
He  has  mounted  his  Pisgah,  and  far  o'er  the  hill 


270  OLIVEE    CROMWELL. 

He  beholds  the  contentions  with  soitow,  but  joy, 
For  the  soul  is  erect,  and  they  cannot  annoy. 
The  winds  they  blow  keen  from  the  past,  but  in  vain  ; 
They  chill  not  the  spirit  or  vision  of  Vane. 

He  dreamed  he  was  borne  in  his  slumbers  away 
To  the  i^roud  hall  of  Eufus,  so  hoary  and  gray  ; 
Whose  rafters  resounded,  long  ages  agone, 
To  the  shout  and  the  wassail,  the  Conqueror's  song. 
And  he  saw  as  he  saw  it  when  s^n-ead  for  the  doom 
Of  the  King,  and  the  judgment  hung  dark  o'er  the  room  ; 
And  the  phantoms  of  Cromwell  and  Bradshaw  were  there, 
As  if  living,  — unshaken,  unshadowed  by  care. 
And  the  King  smiled  in  kindness,  though  sad  as  the  day, 
On  the  couch  where  the  sleeper  so  peacefully  lay. 
It  was  but  a  moment,  it  brightened  again, 
And  the  sun  shone  in  light  round  the  visions  of  Vaxe. 
***** 

'Tis  the  first  in  the  long  Saturnalia  of  Blood  ; 
The  Tiger  is  back,  he  is  crying  for  food. 
The  tongue  of  the  Stuart  is  thirsting  for  gore, 
And  the  sweet  taste  of  this  shall  give  relish  for  more. 
For  this  shall  his  name,  stiff  with  treason,  go  down 
"With  a  stain  on  his  robe  and  a  curse  on  his  crown. 
And  the  laureate  that  chanteth  his  glory  shall  be 
A  pander  and  traitor  more  bloody  than  he. 
This  alone,  if  no  other,  foreA'er  shall  stain  : 
He  piled  up  the  block  and  the  .scaffold  of  Vane. 
***** 

They  drew  him  along  on  the  sledge  through  the  crowd  ; 

Each  head  was  uncovered  and  solemnly  bowed. 

Far  up  to  the  roofs  of  the  houses  were  seen 

Mute  mourners,  all  wondei'ing  aghast  at  the  scene. 

The  loving  and  tender  withheld  not  their  tears. 

The  faces  of  patriots  were  troubled  with  fears. 

And  the  cheeks  of  some  spirits  blazed  forth  with  disdain  : 

They,  too,  could  have  mounted  the  scaffold  with  Vane. 

They  have  drawn  him  along  on  his  sledge  through  the  crowd, 
He  has  mounted  the  scaffold  Mith  spirit  unbowed. 
Some  spirits  can  never  their  grandeur  conceal  ; 
The  scourge  and  the  scaffold  their  glory  reveal ; 


APPENDIX.  271 

And  the  ej'es  they  strained  dee^jly  to  glance  on  the  frame 
So  wasted  and  feeble  with  sorrow  and  shame. 
Oh,  it  was  not  as  Rome's  latest  Roman  was  there, 
'Twas  the  heart  of  the  Christian  defying  despair,— 
So  brave,  so  unbending,  o'er  bale  and  o'er  bane, 
Oh,  the  throne  of  a  king  was  the  scaffold  of  Vane. 

How  princely,  how  peerless  he  looked  on  that  day, 

When  the  scaffold  scowled  grimly  in  bloody  array  ; 

When  the  axe  and  the  halberd  so  cruel  and  keen. 

To  honor  the  Hero  and  Martyr  were  seen  ; 

And  the  soldiers  stood  gazing  in  wonder  and  awe 

On  the  cheek  that  smiled  calm  o'er  the  axe  and  the  law. 

And  wondered  to  note  that  the  fear  and  the  blame 

Were  the  meed  of  the  sheriff  and  headsman  ;  while  shame 

Shrunk  timid  afar  from  the  scaffold,  to  keep 

A  Royal  comijanionship,  noisy  and  deep, 

And  left  to  the  victim  no  sorrow  or  stain. 

But  curtained  with  beauty  the  scaffold  of  Vane. 

When  tyrants  their  victims  urge  on  to  the  tomb, 
The  hearts  of  the  people  sink  throbbing  to  gloom  ; 
But  the  gloom  is  the  dawn  of  the  morn,  and  they  see 
The  Right— starting  forth  where  a  scaffold  should  be. 
Ho,  tyrants  !     Ho,  traitors  !     Behold  it,  for  here 
The  poor  headless  body  must  wait  for  its  bier. 
What  of  that  ?     He  has  conquered  by  dying.     The  truth 
Has  sprung  from  this  block  in  the  glow  of  its  youth. 
Ho  !  the  chariot  that  waits  when  the  martyrs  are  slain 
Hath  passed  to  the  skies  Avith  the  spirit  of  Vane. 

Yet  sad  are  our  hearts  when  the  noble  and  brave 

Pass  down  in  their  garments  of  blood  to  the  grave  ; 

While  satyrs  and  vampires  malignant  are  seen 

Dancing  lewdly  and  wild  where  their  grave  should  be  green  ; 

While  Vice,  decked  with  roses,  sits  gay  on  its  throne. 

And  sings  its  lewd  songs  in  its  bacchanal  tone. 

Meek  Faith  sinks  to  death  with  a  spasm  of  pain. 

Or  sighs  as  she  sighed  by  the  scaffold  of  Vane. 

Yet  better  by  far  is  the  scaffold  of  Vane 

Than  the  coTich  where  Charles  Stuart  sank  shrieking  with  pain  ; 

With  a  lie  in  his  mouth  and  a  lie  on  his  heart. 

And  a  weak  hand  uplifted  to  ward  off  the  dart  ; 


372  OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

And  his  harlot  attendants,  who  pressed  but  to  peep 
And  to  i^illage  his  form,  as  he  slept  his  last  sleep  ; 
With  scoundrels  and  traitors  to  curtain  the  gloom. 
And  a  hireling  Confessor  to  sneak  through  the  room. 
Great  God  !     I  had  rather  the  scaffold  of  Vane, 
Or  I'd  rot  to  mj-  death  in  a  dungeon  and  chain.* 

*  It  is,  perhaps,  needless  to  say  that  this  last  verse,  severe  as  it  seems  or  sounds, 
merely  describes  the  death-bod  of  Charles  the  Second  ;  a  passage  from  John 
Evelyn's  letters  will,  doubtless,  occur  to  the  memory  of  many  readers. 

NiBLEY,  Gloucestebshiee,  1856. 


INDEX. 


Age,  Cromwell  the  iDatlifinder  of 

his,  19. 
Aikin,  Lucy,  Memoirs  of  James  I. 

Cowl  referred  to,  37. 
Aims,  Cronnvell's,  26. 
Alexander,      VII.,       Pope,      and 

Blake,  207. 
America,  First  English  emigrants 
to,  48  ;  Sir  H.   Vane's  flight 
to,  233. 
Ancestry,     early    days,     etc.,     of 

Cromwell,  25-48. 
Anecdotes  : — 

Charles  II.  and  the  blacksmith, 

172. 
Charles  II.  and  the  cook,  172. 
"  and  the  jack,  172. 

Cromwell  and  the  Bishop,  138. 
"         and  the  Diike  of  Sa- 
voy, 212. 
Cromwell     and     the     Qnakei", 

311-312. 
Cromwell  and  the  monkey,  29. 
"  at     Knaresborough, 

23. 
Cromwell,  Discipline  of,  138. 
Cromwell?     "Who   will    bring 

me  thi.s,"  133,  136. 
Cromwell's         wrestle        with 

Charles  I.,  28. 
Cruelty  of  an  Irish  priest,  213. 
De  Eetz  on  Cromwell,  21. 
Dream,  A  singiilar,  34. 
Drowning,  An  escape  from,  29. 
Eliot,  Sir  J.,  and  the  secretarj', 
72. 


Hall,  A  reason  for  perfuming 
a,  168. 

"If  it  were  to  see  me  hanged  !"' 
145. 

Keeling,  Serjeant,  and  Sir  H. 
Vane,  251. 

Leslie  and  the  English  soldier, 
151. 

Marston  Moor  fight,  A  story 
of,  118. 

Mazarin  and  Madame  Tu- 
renne,  216. 

Miiskerry,  Lord,  and  George 
Kooke,  181. 

"One  charge  more,  gentle- 
men," 135,  137. 

"Our  dear  brother  Oliver!" 
215. 

Present,  A  singular,  210. 

Powder,  Sitting  on,  90. 

Eupert  and  the  prisoner,  116. 

Shepherd  and  the  noble  in- 
fant. The,  169. 

South,  Dr.,  and  Charles  II.,  83. 

Tiberius,  A  modern, *20. 

Vote,  Effects  of  a  single,  82. 

"  Who  is  that  sloven?"  18. 

B<dance  of  Governmeni,  Vane's,  re- 
ferred to,  255. 

Basing,  Taking  of,  referred  to, 
139. 

Battle  cries,  103,  115,  154. 

Battles,  Marston  Moor,  114  ; 
Naseby,  133-140  ;  Dunbar, 
146,  264  ;  Worcester,  165-169. 


274 


INDEX. 


Baxter's  estimate  of  Sir  H.  Vane, 
230  ;  and  Sir  H.  Vane,  238, 
242. 

Beard,  Dr.,  31. 

Beauty  combined  with  strength, 
159. 

Bedford  Level,  The  draining  of, 
107-9. 

Bihl'ia  Poh/gloUa    Waltoni,  charac- 
ter of,  200. 

Bishojis'  "  Eemonstrance, "  The, 
87. 

Bisset,  Andrew,  on  Cromwell  and 
Dnnbar,  14G,  148. 

Blake,  Admiral— birth  and  par- 
entage, 203  ;  enters  Par- 
liament, 203  ;  services  in 
the  West,  204  ;  Character  of, 
204  ;  enters  the  navy,  205  ; 
and  Cromwell,  205  ;  en- 
gagement with  Enpert,  205  ; 
naval  reformer,  206  ;  secures 
the  supremacy  of  the  seas, 
207  ;  naval  victories,  207  ; 
letter  to  Cromwell,  207  ; 
captiire  of  Spanish  galleons, 
207  ;  achievements,  208  ;  at 
Santa  Cruz.  209  ;  death,  fu- 
neral, and  indignities  to,  209  ; 
Clarendon's  tribute  to,  210. 

Bletchington,  The  taking  of,  re- 
ferred to,  133. 

Body,  Exhuming  of  Hampden's 
(note),  112. 

Bohemia,  Queen  of,  marriage, 
128  ;  misfortunes,  129. 

Boroughs,  The  rejected  of  three, 
243. 

Boscobel,  The  romance  of,  170. 
"Bottomless   Bagge,"    Character 
of,  64,  76  ;  and  Magna  Charta, 
69. 


Boucher,  Elizabeth,  42. 

Brewer,  Anthony,  Comedy  of,  32. 

Brodie's  History  of  the  British 
Empire  referred  to,  15. 

Broom,  Van  Tromp's  standard  of 
the,  206. 

Browning,  Robert,  quoted,  200, 
201. 

Buckingham,  Duke  of,  and  Sir  J. 
Eliot,  50  ;  interview  be- 
tween, 56-57  ;  and  Captain 
Pennington,  58  ;  character 
of,  62  ;  and  the  St.  Peter, 
63  ;  and  the  Cadiz  Expedi- 
tion, 64  ;  Charles  I.  's  letter 
concerning,  65  ;  Eliot  on. 
65  ;  impeachment,  66-67  ; 
and  Wentvvorth,  72,  73. 

Buckingham,  Duke  of,  at  Worces- 
ter,  165. 

Bunyan  and  Sir  H.  Vane,  242. 

Burial,  Cromwell's,  226. 

Biirnet,  Bishop,  referred  to,  255. 

Cabinet,  The  Red  Velvet,  re- 
ferred to,  235. 

Cadiz,  Buckingham's  expedition 
to,  63. 

Calvert,  Sir  J.,  and  Captain  Nutt, 
51,  52. 

Cambridge,  Cromwell  at,  40-42  ; 
returned  to  Parliament  for, 
82  ;  prompt  actions  at,  98. 

Cappadocia,  St.  George  of,  re- 
ferred to,  18. 

Carisbrooke  Castle,  Sir  H.  Vane 
imprisoned  in,  240  ;  works 
written  in,  241. 

Carlyle's  estimate  of  Cromwell, 
14  :  quoted,  40,  96,  100. 
123,  144  ;  description  of  the 
battle   of  Dunbar,  150,  153  ; 


INDEX. 


275 


clescriptlon  of  Cromwell  at 
lifty-four,  187  ;  on  the  death 
of  Cromwell,  222. 

Castle  Eaby,  Sir  H.  Yane  at,  231, 
232. 

Cavalier  and  Eoiindhead,  98. 
"         Prince  Rupert  an  ideal, 
331. 

Cavalier.s,  Character  of  the,  103. 

Ceremony,  Cromwell  and,  199. 

Chalgrove,  The  fatal  fight  at, 
110,  111. 

Character,  Opinions  as  to  Crom- 
well's, 10  ;  Southey's,  10  ; 
Forster's,  11-12  ;  Carlyle's, 
14  ;  Hume's,  15  ;  Orme's, 
IG;  Rogers',  IG;  Macaulaj^'s, 
16-18  ;  a  mythical,  18. 

Charles  I.,  Cromwell  a  cousin  of, 
25  ;  a  wrestle  with,  31  ; 
England  in  the  first  years  of, 
55  ;  and  Captain  Penning- 
ton, 58  ;  letter  to  Parlia- 
ment, 65  ;  speech  to  Parlia- 
ment, 6G  ;  imjjrisons  Eliot, 
67,  75,  7G  ;  governs  by 
prerogative,  69  ;  debate  on 
his  claim  to  commit,  71, 
72  ;  claims  the  Fens,  78  ; 
Cromwell's  opposition  to, 
78,  79  ;  Short  Parliament 
of,  80  ;  attempt  to  seize 
the  five  members,  87,  88  ; 
flight  to  Hampton  Court, 
89  ;  ez-ects  his  banner  at 
Nottingham,  89  ;  and  the 
nobility,  121,"  122  ;  sister  of, 
129-128  ;  high  hopes  of  suc- 
cess, 132  ;  desire  to  seize 
Cromwell,  133  ;  in  the 
north,  133  ;  at  Naseby  fight, 
136  ;     letters     seized,     138  ; 


Cromwell's  intentions  tow- 
ard, 179-181  ;  falsity  of, 
180,  181. 
Charles  II.  proclaimed  king  of 
the  Scots,  149  ;  diiplicity  of, 
149  ;    invasion   of   England, 

164  ;  at  Worcester  city,  164, 

165  ;  conduct  at  the  battle  of 
Worcester,  167  ;  character  of 
his  adventures,  169.  170  ; 
retreats  and  disguises,  172  ; 
and  the  blacksmith,  172  ; 
and  turning  the  jack,  172  ; 
and  the  ready-witted  cook, 
172  ;  gratitude  of,  173  ;  re- 
w'ard  for  Cromwell' s  life,  219 ; 
restoration  and  reign  of,  227; 
and  Sir  H.  Vane,  250. 

Cheshunt,  Richard  Cromwell  re- 
tires to,  245. 

Childhood,  Character  of  Crom- 
well's, 30. 

Children,  Cromwell's,  45  ;  his 
love  and  concern  for,  159. 

Christian  versus  soldier,  22. 

Civil  War,  Commencement  of, 
89. 

Clarendon,  Lord,  quoted,  92, 
101,  144,  165,  166,  169,  173. 
210,  255  ;  on  the  adventures 
and  restoration  of  Charles 
II.,  172,  173. 

Claypole,  Death  of  Mrs.,  221. 

Cleaveland,  Anecdote  of  the 
l^oet,  82. 

Cockpit,  The  (note),  158. 

Coke,  Sir  E.,  on  Magna  Charta, 
72. 

Committee,  A  war,  146,  147. 
Nature  of  a,  176. 

Commons,  House  of,  and  Eliot's 
imi^risonment,    67  ;  exciting 


276 


iKbiix. 


scene  in,    74,  75  ;  privileges 
violated  by  the  king,  88. 

Commonwealth,  The  Achilles  of 
the,  163. 

Compensation,  A  Divine,  219, 
220. 

Conscience,  Cromwell  and  free- 
dom of,  192. 

Contemporaries  of  Cromwell  : 
Sir  J.  Eliot,  49  ;  Pym,  91  ; 
Hampden,  163  ;  Prince  Ru- 
pert, 128  ;  Sir  H.  Vane,  355. 

Convictions,  Eeligious,  of  Sir  H. 
Vane,  232. 

Council,  Cromwell's  intended 
Protestant,  214. 

Court,  Cromwell's,  199. 

Cromwell  : — 

Oi^inions  as  to  the  character 
of,  10-18  ;  a  mythic  charac- 
ter, 18  ;  the  pathfinder  of 
his  age,  19  ;  Hampden's 
prophecy  of,  19  ;  greatness 
of,  19  ;  place  in  English 
story,  19  ;  fame  of,  19  ; 
Cardinal  de  Ketz's  opinion 
of,  21  ;  unconscious  great- 
ness of,  21  ;  a  thorough 
Puritan,  22  ;  his  library, 
23  ;  at  Knaresborough,  23  ; 
ancestry,  27  ;  birth,  28  ; 
scenery  and  traditions  of 
his  infancy,  29  ;  childhood, 
29,  32  ;  at  school,  29  ; 
wrestle  with  Charles  I.,  31  ; 
a  singular  dream,  31  ;  acts 
in  a  comedy,  32  ;  school- 
mastef ,  32  ;  enters  Cam- 
bridge, 40 ;  death  of  his 
father,  41  ;  marriage,  42  ; 
home  life,  43  ;  removal  to 
St.  Ives,   44  ;  hypochondria, 


44  ;  children,  45  ;  removes 
to  Ely,  46  ;  future  destiny 
of,  46  ;  intended  emigration 
to  America,  48  ;  opposes 
the  king's  claims  to  the 
Fens,  78  ;  Lord  of  the 
Fens,  80  ;  contrasted  with 
Hami^den,  80,  81  ;  mem- 
ber for  Cambridge,  82  ; 
Sir  P.  Warwick's  descrip- 
tion of,  83  ;  Dr.  South  on, 
83  ;  training  the  Ironsides, 
95,  99  ;  prompt  action  at 
Cambridge,  98  ;  advice  to 
his  troops,  101  ;  at  Marston 
Moor,  113-127  ;  anecdote 
of,  118  ;  at  Newbury  fight, 
122  ;  quarrel  with  Earl 
Manchester,  123  ;  the  Scots 
conspire  against  him,  124- 
126  ;  impeaches  Earl  Man- 
chester, 126  ;  and  the  Self- 
denying  Ordinance,  126, 
132  ;  success  of,  133  ;  king's 
desire  to  cajjture,  133  ;  re- 
tained in  command,  133  ;  at 
Naseby,  132  - 140  ;  rapid 
victories  of,  138,  139  ;  and 
the  Bishoi)  of  Winchester, 
138  ;  strict  discipline,  138  ; 
honors  conferred  on,  139  ; 
invincible,  139  ;  commands 
the  Irish  expedition,  141, 
142,  143  ;  leaves  London  in 
state,  143  ;  takes  Tredagh, 
143  ;  the  curse  of,  143  ;  re- 
ception on  returning  from 
Ireland,  144,  145  ;  at  Dunbar, 
146-155  ;  humanity  of,  155; 
proclamation  of,  157  ;  the 
Maccaba^us  of  the  Common- 
wealth,  163  ;  judged  from  a 


IKDEX. 


211 


wrong  centre,  163  ;  at  Wor- 
cester, 164-168  ;  the  most 
capable  man,  176,  177  ; 
disperses  the  KiimiD  Parlia- 
ment, 177,  178  ;  sijeeches, 
178  ;  speech  to  Ludlow,  178  ; 
intentions  toward  Charles 
I.,  178-183  ;  and  the  mon- 
archy,   180  ;   no  repiiblican, 

181  ;  discovery  of  the  false- 
ness of  Charles  I.,  181  ; 
Lord  Pi'otector,  182  ;  com- 
pared    with      Napoleon     L, 

182  ;  compared  with  Wash- 
ington, 183-184  ;  inaiigura- 
tion  as  Lord  Protector,  186  ; 
at  fifty-four,  187  ;  xirged  to 
assume  the  crown,  and  letter 
on  the  subject,  187-188  ; 
speech  on  refusing  the 
crown,  189-192  ;  and  free- 
dom of  conscience,  192  ;  and 
religious  liberty,  193-197  ; 
domestic  life,  198  ;  court, 
199  ;  and  Dr.  Owen,  199  ; 
and  learning,  199  201  ;  for- 
eign policy,  202  ;  and  Spain, 
202,  203,  217  ;  and  Admiral 
Blake,  205  ;  and  Cardinal 
Mazarin,  210  ;  and  the  Vau- 
dois  persecution,  212,  215  ; 
the  Huguenots  appeal  to, 
213  ;  scheme  for  a  Protestant 
council,  215  ;  compared  with 
Gustavus  Adolphus,  216  ; 
and  Eome,  216,  217  ;  life 
sought,  219  ;  unhapjoiness 
of,  219,  220  ;  greatness 
thrust  Tipon  him,  220  ;  fears 
of  his  wife,  220  ;  mother 
dies,  221  ;  death  of  his 
daughter,   221  ;  illness,   221  ; 


last  scenes,  221-223  ;  death, 

224  ;  was  he  a  failure  ?  224, 

225  ;  estimate  and  work  of, 
225-226  ;  burial,  226  ;  the 
end,  228  ;  and  Sir  H.  Vane, 
237  ;  difficult  work  of,  240. 

Cromwell,  Letters  of  : — 
To  Mrs.  St.  John,  47  ;  to  Col. 
Walton,  119-120  ;  to  Sir  A. 
Hazlerig,  152  ;  to  General 
Leslie,  156  ;  to  his  wife, 
158,  159,  160  ;  to  Bridget 
Ireton,  161  ;  to  Lord  Fleet- 
wood, 188. 

Cromwell,  Elizabeth,  106. 

Cromwell,  Richard,  219,  242, 
245  ;  Vane's  attack  on,  244  ; 
abdication  and  retirement, 
245. 

Cromwell,  Eobert,  28. 

Cromwell,  Sir  Oliver,  27. 

Cromwell,  Thomas,  25  ;  Life  of 
Oliver  Cromwell  quoted,  79. 

Cromwelliad,  The,  21. 

Crown,  Cromwell  urged  to  as- 
sume the,  187  ;  letter  on  the 
subject,  187,  188  ;  speech  on 
t^e  subject,  189-192.         -_^ 

Culpepjjer,  Sir  J.,  on  the  taxes, 
87.  ■ 

Curse  of  Cromwell,  The,  144. 

D'Aiibigne  quoted,  141,  162. 

Death,  A  soldier's,  120  ;  Crom- 
well's, 221-224  ;  Sir  H. 
Vane's  meditations  on,  246, 
248. 

De  Betz's,  Cardinal,  oiiinion  of 
Cromwell,  21. 

Derby,  Lord,  Execution  referred 
to,  172. 

Devizes  taken  by  Cromwell,  138. 


278 


IXDEX. 


Devon,  Sir  J.  Eliot,  Vice-Admiral 
.  of,  50. 

Dickson,  John,  Offence  and  pun- 
ishment of,  35. 

Disraeli",  Isaac,  quoted,  76. 

Dissent,  Laws  .against  Puritan,  55. 

Donnington,  The  fight  at,  121  ; 
escape  of  the  Eoyalists  after, 
122. 

Dream,  A  prophetic,  31. 

Drowning,  Cromwell's  escajje 
from,  28. 

Dunbar,  Bisset  on  the  battle  of, 
146  ;  position  of  the  com- 
batants, 151  ;  Cromwell  on 
the  position,  153  ;  fatal 
movement  of  the  Scots,  153  ; 
battle  cries,  154  ;  the  con- 
flict, 154  :  trophies.  155. 

Dryden  quoted,  81. 

Ecclesiastical  Polity  referred  to,  76. 

Edinhimjh  Eeview  referred  to,  9. 

Edward's  Gangrena  referred  to, 
192,  193  ;  Treatise  against 
Toleration  referred  to.  193. 

Elijah  of  the  English  Revolution, 
The,  49. 

Eliot,  Sir  J.,  Forster's  life  of, 
49  ;  birth  of,  49  ;  Yice-Ad- 
miral  of  Devon,  49  ;  enters 
Parliament,  49  ;  and  Capt. 
Nutt,  50  ;  imjirisonment,  52  ; 
interview  with  Buckingham, 
56,  57  ;  and  the  St.  Peter, 
63  ;  remarks  on  the  king's 
letter,  65  ;  on  the  value  of 
the  monarchy,  65  ;  on  the 
l^rivileges  of  Parliament, 
65  ;  impeaches  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  66,  67  ;  imjiris- 
onment,     67  :     release,     68  ; 


consiDiracj^  against,  69  ;  in 
the  Gate  House,  70  ;  re- 
turned to  Parliament,  70  ; 
on  religion,  70,  71  ;  rebukes 
the  secretary,  72  ;  and  Went- 
worth,  73  ;  death  of  his  wife, 
74  ;  last  speech  in  Parlia- 
ment, 75  ;  prisoner  in  the 
Tower,  75  ;  Monarchy  of  Man 
referred  to,  76,  177;  sickness 
and  death,  76,  77  ;  vindic- 
tiveness  of  Charles  to,  76. 

Ely,  Cromwell  removes  to,  46. 

England  during  the  first  years  of 
Charles  I.,  55. 

England  invaded  by  Charles  II., 
164. 

England,  Old,  95. 

England,  The  Patron  Saint  of, 
alluded  to,  18. 

England,  What  Cromwell  saved 
her  from,  163. 

English  and  Scottish  villages, 
147,  148. 

English  story,  Cromwell's  j^lacc 
in,  19. 

Enthusiasm,  Cromwell  enlists  re- 
ligious,  192-200. 

Essex,  Earl  of.  Conduct  of,  120, 
121. 

Everard's  Gospel  Treasury  refer- 
red to,  241. 

Execution  of  Sir  H.  Vane,  253-255- 

Exeter  taken  by  Cromwell,  139. 

Fairfax,  Lord,  at  Marston  Moor, 
114  :  and  the  Scottish  com- 
mand, 145. 

Fairfax,  Sir  Thomas,  Parliament- 
ary general,  127,  132  ;  com- 
mission to  Cromwell,  133  ; 
at  Nasebv,  136. 


IXDEX. 


279 


Faith,  Cromwell  a  defender  of 
the,  212. 

Fame,  Durability  of  Cromwell's, 
20,  21. 

Farewell  to  Brighton  Bells,  quoted, 
171. 

Felton,  John,  7-4. 

Fens,  The  region  of  the,  28  ; 
draining  of  the,  78  ;  the 
king  claims  the,  79  ;  Lord 
of  the,  80. 

Fidelity,  A  story  of,  170. 

Fifth  Monarchy  men,  193. 

Finch,  Lord  Keeper,  speech  to 
Parliament,  203. 

Fisher,  Lady,  and  Charles  II. ,173. 

Five  Members,  Attempt  to  ar- 
rest the,  87,  88; 

Fleetwood,  Lord,  Cromwell's  let- 
ter to,  188,  189. 

Fleming,  John,  Offence  and  pun- 
ishment of,  35,  SC). 

Folio,  An  old,  9. 

Forster,  Chief  Justice,  and  Sir 
H.  Vane,  250. 

Forster,  John,  estimate  of  Crom- 
well, 11  ;  on  James  I.,  37  ; 
Life  of  Eliot  referred  to,  49  ; 
Lives  of  statesmen  referred 
to,  11,  13  ;  quoted,  26,  3(5,  49, 
56,  84,  102,  154,  224,  231. 

Fox,  George,  and  Cromwell,  199. 

France  in  the  days  of  Cromwell, 
211  ;  and  the  Vaudois  i:)erse- 
cution,  214. 
Freedom   and  Eiiroiie   in  Crom- 
well's day,  202. 

Galleons,    Spanish,   captiired   by 

Blake,  207. 
Gambling,  Returning  money  won 

in,  47. 


Gate-hoTise,  Sir  J.    Eliot  impris- 
oned in,  70. 

Geddes,  Jenny,  alluded  to,  149. 

Generals,  Conduct  of  the  Parlia- 
mentary, 121. 

Genlleman's  Magazine  referred  to, 
112. 

Gift,  James  I.  and  the  Free,  39. 

Goodricke's,  Sir  J.,  Anecdote  of 
Cromwell,  23. 

Gorges,  Sir  F.,  Noble  conduct  of, 
60. 

Goring,  Lord,  at  Marston  Moor, 
112  ;  at  Taunton,  204. 

Grandeur,  True,  20. 

Greatness,  Unconscioi;s,  20,  21  ; 
founded  on  disorder",  179. 

Guizot's  estimate  of  Cromwell, 
12,  13  ;  quoted,  85,  132,  141, 
179. 

Gustavus  Adolphus  compared 
with  Cromwell,  216. 

Gustavus  of  the  seas.  A,  208. 

Hall,  Perfuming  Worcester,  1G8. 

Hallam  qiioted,  175. 

Hampden,  prophecy  concerning 
Cromwell,  19  ;  and  Cromwell 
as  playmates,  33  ;  and  Crom- 
well contrasted,  80,  81  ; 
and  the  shijj  money,  84, 
85  ;  ancestry  of,  106  ;  earl}^ 
life  and  marriage,  107  ;  ca- 
reer in  Parliament,  107  ; 
character,  107,  108  ;  a  cham- 
pion of  liberty,  108  ;  Hume's 
charge  against,  109  ;  the 
three  stages  of  his  life,  109  ; 
death,  110,  111  ;  ancestral 
home.  111,  112  ;  body  ex- 
humed (note).  111,  112. 

Hartlib  and  Cromwell,  200. 


280 


INDEX. 


Heath,  Carrion,  30. 

Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews,  A,  22. 

Henrj"  TV.  of  France,  assassina- 
tion referred  to,  33. 

Henry  THI.  and  Eichard  Will- 
iams, 25. 

Herbert,  Lord,  Cromwell's  refer- 
ence to,  160. 

Hinchinbrook,  Festivities  at,  26. 

Holland  humbled  by  Blake,  206. 

Home-life  of  great  men,  41,  -42  : 
Cromwell".s,  42,  198. 

Home,  Hampden's  ancestral,  112, 
113. 

Horse whij),  Blake's  standard  of 
the,  206. 

Household,  The  Puritan,  104, 
105. 

Howe,  John,  and  Cromwell,  199. 

Huguenots,  Appeal  of,  to  Crom- 
well, 213. 

Humanity  of  Cromwell,  155. 

Hume's  estimate  of  Cromwell, 
13  ;  quoted,  43,  108. 

Huntingdon,  birthplace  of  Crom- 
well, 28  ;  Cromwell  at  the 
Grammar  School  of,  30 ; 
Member  for,  80. 

Hutchinson,  Mrs.,  quoted,  98. 

Hypochondria,  Cromwell's  fits 
of,  44,  45. 

Hypocrisy,  Hampden  accused  of, 
109. 

Impeachment    of     Buckingham, 

66,  67. 
Imprison,  Debate  on  Charles  I.'s 

claim  to,  72,  73. 
Incendiary,  Cromwell  an,  125. 
Independents,  123^. 
Infancy.  Cromwell's.  29. 
Invincible,  Cromwell  the,  139. 


Ireland,  Cromwell  sent  to,  141, 
142  :  State  of,  in  1649,  142  ; 
Cromwell  made  Lord  Gov. 
emor,  143  ;  Cromwell's  suc- 
cess in,  143,  144  ;  Crom- 
well's return  from,  144. 

Ireton  at  Xaseby,  134,  136. 

Ireton,  Bridget,  Cromwell's  letter 
to,  161. 

Irish,  How  Cromwell  dealt  with, 
143,  144. 

Ironsides,  Training  of,  95,  96, 
98,  99  ;  Cromwell's  account 
of  the,  99  :  Forster's  account, 
102  :  character  of,  103,  104. 

Islip  Bridge,  Fight  at,  referred 
to,  132. 

James  I.  at  Hinchinbrook,  26, 
27  ;  character  of,  34  ;  Henrj- 
IV.  on,  36  ;  personal  appear- 
ance, 36,  40  ;  and  the  Puri- 
tan deputation,  38  ;  extrava- 
gance of.  39  ;  claims  to 
learning.  39  ;  superstition, 
39  ;  and  Parliament,  54 ; 
last  Parliament  of,  55 ; 
death,  55. 

Keeling,    Serjeant,    and    Sir    H. 

Yane,  251. 
King,  Nominal  and  Real,  177. 
King,  On  the  word  of  a,  138. 
"KingPym,"  91. 
King,  The  uncrowned,  9,  10. 
King  versus  Parliament,  66,  67. 
Knaresborough,  Cromwell  at,  23. 

Landor,  W.  S.,  Imaginary  Corir 
versations,  referred  to,  27. 

Lane,  Jane,  and  Charles  II.,  172, 
173. 


INDEX. 


281 


Lund,  Arch.,  tind  Sir  H.  Yane, 
232. 

Law  and  the  King,  The,  178,  179. 

Learning,  Cromwell's,  23  ;  fos- 
tered by  Cromwell,  199,  200. 

Leslie,  General,  at  Dunbar,  147, 
148  ;  and  the  j)risoner,  151  ; 
Cromwell's  letter  to,  156. 

Letter,  Charles  11.  on  Sir  H. 
Vane,  250. 

Letter.s,  Cromwell's,  14,  197  ;  the 
king's  cabinet  of,  138. 

Liberty  versus  absohitism,  86 ; 
Hamjiden  a  champion  of, 
108  ;  Cromwell's  ideas  of  re- 
ligious, 193  ;  corresi^ondence 
and  speeches  on,  193-197. 

Library,  Cromwell's,  23. 

Life,     Conflicting     theories     of 
Cromwell's,  9-24. 
"      Cromwell's,    sought    after, 
219. 

Lily  the  astrologer  referred  to,  56. 

Li)ujuu,  The  comedy  of,  32. 

Lintz  Castle,  Kui)ert  a  prisoner 
at,  130. 

Literature,  Present  religious,  23. 

Lockhart,  the  ambassador  to 
France,  213,  214. 

London,  The  plague  in,  56  ;  a 
great  storm  in,  68  ;  Crom- 
well's departure  from,  in 
1649,  143  ;  alarm  in,  at 
Charles  II. 's  invasion,  165. 

''  Lord  of  the  Fens,"  Cromwell 
called,  80. 

Louis  XIV.  and  Cromwell,  215. 

Love  of  God  and  iDiion  wiih  God, 
Vane's,  referred  to,  241. 

Love-story,  A  prisoner's,  130. 

Loyalty  versus  Liberty,  96. 

Ludlow  and  Cromwell,  178. 


Lying,  Give  up,  181. 
Lytton,  Lord,  quoted,  92. 

MacOdeghan,  treachery  of,  142. 

Macaulay,  estimate  of  Cromwell, 
16  ;  quoted.  111,  137. 

Magna  Charta,  Eliot  and  Bagge 
on,  69. 

Macjnatia,  Mathew  Cotton's,  re- 
ferred to,  241. 

Malleus  Monachorum,  26. 

Man,  Cromwell  the  most  capable, 
176,  177. 

Man,  The  child  the  father  of  the, 
29,  30. 

Manchester,  Earl  of.  Conduct  of, 
120,  121  ;  quarrel  with 
Cromwell,  123  ;  impeached 
by  Cromwell,  126. 

Manton  quoted,  23. 

Maria,  Henrietta,  mentioned, 
74  ;  clause  in  her  marriage 
treaty,  58  ;  flight  of,  130. 

Marriage,  Cromwell's,  42-44. 

Marston  Moor,  113  ;  night  before 
the  battle  of,  114  ;  battle  of, 
115-118  ;  spoils,  118  ;  scene 
after  the  battle,  118  ;  a  tra- 
dition of  the  battle,  118,  119. 

Marvell,  Andrew,  and  Cromwell, 
200. 

Massachusetts,  Vane  Governor 
of,  233. 

Massacre,  The  Irish,  141,  142. 

Maurice,  Prince,  and  Blake,  204. 

Maynard's  reply  to  the  Scotch 
Chancellor,  126. 

May's  Ilislory  of  the  Long  Parlia- 
ment quoted,  109. 

Mazarin,  Cardinal,  and  Crom- 
well, 210  ;  and  Madame  Tu- 
renne,  216. 


28-Z 


INDEX. 


Men,  Cromwell   and    great,  200, 

■201. 
Men,  Providential  appearance  of 

great,  20. 
Mercnrius  Aulicus  referred  to,  101. 
Milton  quoted,  43,   62,  123,  337  ; 

and  Cromwell,   201  ;   sonnet 

on  Vane,  237. 
Monarchy,   Eliot  on   the  nature 

of,    65  ;    Cromwell   and    the 

idea  of,  180. 
Monkey,  Cromwell  in  peril  with 

the,  29. 
Monopolies,  55,  84. 
Montrose  referred  to,  133. 
Mother,     Fears    of     Cromwell's, 

219  ;  death  of,  220,  221. 
Mounting,  Unconscious,  22. 

Napoleon  I.,  Cromwell  compared 
to,  182. 

Nasebj^,  Village  of,  134  ;  the  old 
table  at,  134. 

Naseby,  Battle  of,  133  ;  night 
before  the,  134  :  battle- 
cries,  135,  137  ;  Eupert  at, 
135;  Cromwell  at,  135-137; 
Charles  I.  at,  136  ;  Macau- 
lay's  ballad  of,  quoted,  137; 
spoils,  138. 

Nation,  On  one  man  hangs  the 
destiny  of  a,  176. 

Navy,  Sir  H.  Vane  treasurer  of, 
234. 

Needham,  Marchmont,  on  Crom- 
well, 100. 

Newbury,  Fight  at,  122  ;  roj'alist 
retreat  from,  122. 

Newcastle,  General,  at  Marston 
Moor,  116,   118. 

Newcastle,  Cromwell's  letter  to 
the  governor  of,  152, 


Nismes,  Huguenots  of,  and 
Cromwell,  213. 

Nobility  and  the  popular  cause, 
The,  121. 

Noble,  quoted,  29. 

Nominal  and  real  King,  177. 

Notes,  Foot,  15,  25,  27,  37,  94, 
112,  120,  158,  171,  187,  192, 
212,  246. 

Nottingham,  The  king's  standard 
erected  at,  89. 

Nugent 's  Life  of  John  Hampden 
quoted,  108. 

Nutt,  Captain,  Career  of,  50  ; 
captured  by  Eliot,  51  ;  free- 
dom of,  52  ;   aiidacitj'  of,  53. 

Oak,  The  Boscobel,  171. 

Oceana,  Harrington's,  referred  to, 
241. 

Oliver  versus  Richard,  219. 

Ordinance,  The  Self-denying, 
185. 

Orme,  W.,  Estimate  of  Crom- 
well, 16. 

Ormond,  Marquis,  in  Ireland, 
142. 

Parliament,  and  James  I.,  117  ; 
Charles  I.,  first,  56,  62  ; 
Charles  I.,  letter  to,  65  ;  El- 
iot's remarks  on,  65  ;  versus 
king,  67. 

Parliament,  third  of  Charles  I., 
70  ;     king's   speech    to,    70 
Eliot's    si^eech     in,    70  72 
Subsidies    granted   by,    72 
exciting  scenes  in,  75,  76. 

Parliament,  The  Short,  80  ;  men 
composing  it,  80-81  ;  Hamp- 
den and  Cromwell's  apjiear- 
ance  in,  81. 

Parliament,  The  Long,  84,  108, 
1Q9  ;    the  work  of,  85  ;  the 


INDEX. 


283 


King    and    the,    85  ;    subsi- 
dies   voted,  87  ;  the    King's 

violation  of,  88. 
Parliament,    Fighting    for    the, 

102. 
Parliament,     The     Rump,     175  ; 

iinpopularity    of,   176  ;    dis- 
persed   by    Cromwell,     177, 

186. 
Parliament  versus  Cromwell,  181. 
Parliament,  The  Little,  186. 
Parliamentary   Debates   referred 

to,  212. 
Parliaments,  A  Bill  for  triennial, 

85. 
Peace  in  unrest,  220. 
"Pearl  of  Britain,"  The,  128. 
Peasantry,     Cromwell     and     the 

Scotch,   150. 
Peel,  Sir  E.,    Lord   Beaconsiield 

on,  91. 
Penderels  and  Charles  II.,  The, 

172,  174. 
Pennington,    Capt.,   Conduct  of, 

58-60. 
Pepys  quoted,  254. 
Petition    of  Rights   referred   to, 

75. 
Phillips,  Speech  of,  G2. 
Pirates,     Turkish,     of    the    17th 

centurj-,  57  ;  ravages  by,   74. 
Plague,  London  during  the,  56. 
Poetical  quotations,  81,  112,  137, 

171,  185,  201,  228,  230,  237, 

246. 
Policy,  Cromwell's  foreiern,  202- 

218. 
Powder,  Sitting  on,  90. 
Power,  Cromwell's  foreign,  202- 

218. 
Prayer,  Sir  H.  Vane's,  252. 
Prerogative,  Governing  by,  G9,  85. 


Present,  A  singular,  210. 

Presbyterianism,  Aim  of  the 
Scots  to  impose,  149. 

Presbyterians,  The,  123. 

Prisoner,  Prince  Rupert  and  the, 
117  ;  Leslie  and  the,  151. 

Protector,  Lord,  Cromwell,  182  ; 
Inauguration,  186. 

Protestantism,  Spain's  persecu- 
tion of,  202  ;  Cromwell's 
scheme  for  the  benefit  of, 
214. 

Protestants  of  Rochelle  and 
England,  16,  61  ;  persecu- 
tion of  Irish.  141,  142. 

"  Protestation,"  The  Bishops',  87. 

Pulteney's  anecdote  of  Cromwell, 
211. 

Puritan  cause,  A  champion  of 
the,  14  ;  Cromwell  a  thor- 
ough, 22,  23  ;  laws  against 
dissent,  55,  56  ;  woman- 
hood,  104  ;  household,   198. 

Puritanism,  The  knighthood  of, 
97.. 

Puritans  and  James  I.,  38. 

Pym,  John,  91  ;  greatest  Mem- 
ber of  Parliament,  91  ; 
birth  and  antecedents,  91  ; 
speech  to  Lord  Clarendon, 
92  ;  work  in  the  Long  Par- 
liament, 92-94  ;  and  the  im- 
peachment of  Strafford.  93. 

Quaker  and  Cromwell,  The,  211. 
Quarterly  Review  referred  to,  15. 
Queen  of  Hearts,  The,  128. 

Eaby  Castle,  Sir  H.  Vane  at,  232. 
Raleigh,  Sir  W.,  referred  to,  33  ; 

execution  of,  37. 
Heal  king,  177. 


2H4: 


INDEX. 


Eebellion,  The  Irish  Catholic, 
141,  143. 

Eeform  Bill,  Sir  H.   Vane's,  236. 

Reformer,  Blake  a  naval,  205. 

Keign,  Character  of  James  I.'s,  40. 

Religion,  Eliot  on,  70,  71. 

IMiquiuj  Baxteriuna  quoted,  100. 

Remonstrance,  The  Grand,  68, 
69,  87.      . 

Rej^nblican,  Cromwell  not  a,  180. 

ReiJublicans,  A  Parliament  of, 
243. 

Retired  Man's  Meditations,  Sir  H. 
Vane's,  241. 

Revolution,  The  Elijah  of  the 
English,  49. 

Reynolds,  Dr.,  and  James  I.,  39. 

Richelieu,  Cardinal,  'and  Ro- 
chelle,  58. 

Rights,  The  Petition  of.  72. 

Rochelle  Protestants  and  Eng- 
land, 57. 

Rogers,  Henry,  Estimate  ot 
Cromwell,  16. 

Rogers,  Samuel,  quoted,  112. 

Romance  and  Eact,  101. 

Romanism,  Cromwell's  hatred 
of,  33. 

Rome,  Cromwell's  dealings  with, 
216,  217. 

Rose,  Thomas,  Offence  and  jnin- 
ishment  of,  36. 

Ross,  Fate  of  the  Bishop  of,  144. 

Roundhead,  Origin  of  the  term, 
98. 

Royalist  commanders,  .Division 
amongst,  165. 

Ruijert,  Prince,  at  Marston 
Moor,  113-118  ;  characteris- 
tics of,  128  ;  parentage,  128, 
129  ;  birth  and  ancestrj', 
129  ;   an  Austrian  prisoner, 


130  ;  and  the  jailer's  daugh- 
ter, 130  ;  character,  130  ; 
personal  appearance,  131  ; 
imptjtuosity,  131  ;  at  Nase- 
by,  134-138  ;  Charles  I.'s 
evil  genius,  136  ;  defeated 
by  Blake,  216. 

Saints'  Everlasting  Best  referred 
to,  242. 

Santa  Cruz,  Blake's  action  at, 
209. 

Savoy,  Duke  of,  and  Cromwell, 
212,  216. 

Scenery  of  the  Civil  Wars,  95. 

Scilly  Isles,  Sir  H.  Vane  imjoris- 
oned  in,  245. 

Schoolmaster,  Cromwell's,  32. 

Scotch  Commissioners,  Crom- 
well's correspondence  with, 
193,  195. 

Scotland,  Lord  Chancellor  of, 
and  Whitelock,  124-126. 

Scottish  and  English  Villages, 
147,  148. 

Scots  at  Dunbar,  The,  153  ;  bat- 
tle-cry of  the,  154  ;  Crom- 
well's proclamation  to,  157. 

Seas,  State  of,  in  Cromwell's  day, 
217. 

Secretaries,  Cromwell's,  200. 

Selden,  John,  quoted,  199. 

Severn  and  Teme  rivers,  166,  167. 

Shakesjieare,  Date  of  the  death 
of,  40. 

Shepherd  and  infant,  The,  169, 

Sheridan  quoted,  176. 

Ship  money,  Hampden's  opposi- 
tion to,  84. 

Shipton,  Mother,  A  prophecy  of, 
115. 

Sloven  ?  Who  is  that,  18. 


IXDEX. 


285 


Soap,  The  monopoly  of,  84. 

Soldiers,  Character  of  Knpert's, 
103  ;  English  at  Dunbar, 
146,   147. 

Sordello,  Browning's,  quoted,  201. 

South,  Dr.,  quoted,  83. 

Southey's  estimate  of  Cromwell, 
10  ;  on  Strafford's  impeach- 
ment, 93. 

Sovereignty  of  Cromwell,  19. 

Spain  and  Cromwell,  38 ;  and 
England,  54  ;  in  the  age  of 
Cromwell,  202,  210  ;  intol- 
erance of,  203  ;  i^ower  of, 
211  ;  Cromwell's  treatment 
of,  211. 

Speeches,  Character  of  Crom- 
well's,  178. 

St.  Bartholomew,  The  Hiber- 
nian, 141. 

St.  Germains,  Birthplace  of  El- 
iot, 50. 

St.  Ives.  Cromwell's  life  at,  44  ; 
The  Farmer  of,  261. 

St.  John,  Mrs.  Cromwell's  letter 
to.  47. 

St.  Peter,  Case  of  the,  62. 

Sterry's  Rise,  Race,  Boyalty,  etc. 
referred  to,  241. 

Steward,  Elizabeth,  25. 

Stewarts,  Ancestors  of  the,  25. 

Stoughton,  Dr.,  Church  under  the 
Civil  W(irs  referred  to,  94. 

Strafford,  Earl  of.  Impeachment 
of,  85,  93  ;    and  Pym,  94. 

Sai^enstition  of  James  I.,  39. 

Supremacy,  James  I.  and  kingly, 
39. 

Sidney,  A.,  Science  of  Government 
referred  to,  177. 

Sykes'  Evangelical  Essays  referred 
to,  241. 


Sykes'  Biography  of  Vane  quoted, 
255. 

Table,  An  historic,  134. 

Tactits,  Cromwell  in  the  charac- 
ter of,  32. 

Tagris,  Eupert's  defeat  at,  205. 

Taxes,  Sir  J.  Culpejiper  on,  87. 

Tennant,  F.,  Offence  and  punish- 
ment of,  35. 

Theology,  A  knowledge  of  Crom- 
well's,  necessary,  22. 

Thurloe  quoted,  220,  224. 

Tiberius,  A  modern,  67. 

Toleration   and   the    Presbyteri-' 
ans,  192,  193. 

Tonnage,  and  Poundage  Bill,  (11, 
62,  63,  64. 

Tower,  Eliot's  life  in  the,  76. 

Townley  family,  A  tradition  in, 
118. 

Tracts,  Nature  of  the  Boscobel, 
170. 

Trade,  Declaration  of  the  com- 
mittee of,  75. 

Treaty,  The  French,  and  Crom- 
well, 214. 

Tredagh,  faking  of,  143. 

Trent,  Charles  II.  refuge  at,  172. 

Trial,  Sir  H.  Vane's,  248-251. 

Tripoli,  Dey  of,  and  Blake,  208. 

Tromp,.  Van,  and  Blake,  206. 

Tunis,  Dey  of,  and  Blake,  207. 

Turenne,  Madame,  and  Mazarin. 
214. 

Turkish  Kovers,  Kavages  of,  57. 

Usurper,  Cromwell  the,  175. 

Vane,  Sir  H.,  claims  for  remem- 
brance, 230  ;  character,  230, 
231  ;    at  Baby   Castle,    232  ; 


286 


INDEX. 


parentage  and  religioiis  con- 
victions, 232  ;  flight  and  so- 
journ in  America,  233  ;  re- 
turn to  England,  233  ;  mar- 
riage and  entei's  Parliament, 
234  ;  Treasurer  of  the  Navy, 
234  ;  and  Strafford's  papers, 
234,  235  ;  as  politician  and 
ruler,  235-237  ;  Reform  Bill, 

236  ;     Milton's     sonnet    on, 

237  ;  and  Cromwell,  237  ; 
resemblance  to  Baxter,  238  ; 
the  Healbuj  Question,  239 ; 
imprisonment,  239;  writings, 
241  ;  re-enters  Parliament, 
243  ;  and  his  fellow  republi- 
cans, 243,  244  ;  attack  on 
Eichard  Cromwell,  244,  245  ; 
arrest  and  imiarisonment, 
245  ;  meditation  on  death, 
246-248;  trial,  248-251; 
prayer  for  his  family,  252  ; 
execution,  252  ;  last  words, 
254  ;  estimate  and  work  of, 
255-257  ;  the  martyrdom  of, 
268. 

Vanguard,  The  sailors  of  the,  58- 
61. 

Vaudois  persecution  and  Crom- 
well, 212,  214. 

Victories,  A  series  of  brilliant, 
138,  139. 

Villages,  Scottish  and  English, 
147,  148. 

Vote,  Effects  of  a  single,  82. 

Waller  quoted  (note),  246. 
Walton,  Colonel,  Cromwell's  let- 
ter to,  119,  120. 
Warburton,  Eliot,  quoted,  14,197. 


Wars,  Commencement  of  the 
Civil,  89  ;  scenery  of  the, 
96  ;  Carlyle  on,  96  ;  pre- 
paring for,  97  ;  disastrous 
effects  of,  109. 

Warwick,  Sir  P.,  Memoirs  of, 
quoted,  82. 

Washington  and  Cromwell  com- 
pared, 183,  184  ;  work  of 
each,  240. 

Watchwords,  Battle,  103. 

Weldon's  character  of  James  I. 
quoted,  37. 

Wentworth,  Sir  T.,  50  ;  on  the 
Petition  of  Rights,  72,  73. 

"Whitelocke's  account  of  the  plot 
against  Cromwell,  124. 

Wife,  Fears  of  Cromwell's,  220. 

Williams,  Dr.  Kewar,  portraits  of 
Cromwell  (note),  187. 

Williams,  Richard,  25. 

Winchester,  The  Bishop  of,  138. 

Witchcraft  and  James  I.,  39. 

Witch-haunted  region.  A,  28. 

Womanhood,  Puritan,  104. 

Wood,  Anthony,  on  Sir  H.  Vane, 
231. 

Worcester,  Charles  II.  at,  164  ; 
Cromwell,  165  ;  roj'alist 
army  at,  165  ;  state  and  jjo- 
sition  of  the  city,  166  ;  Bat- 
tle of,  166-168;  of  to-day, 
168. 

Words,  Sir  H.  Vane's  last,  254. 

Work,  Unseen,  201  ;  estimate  of 
Cromwell's,  225-226. 

Wyndham,  Mistress,  quoted, 
169. 

York,  113  ;  The  city  of,  116. 


287 

THE  STANDARD  LIBRARY. 

WHAT     REPKESENTATIVE    CLERGY3IEN    SAY 

OF  IT. 

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288 

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says: 

"  Your  plan  is  grand  and  philanthro])ic.  I  wish  you  success,  and  ask 
you  to  put  me  down  for  oue  set,  mltli  the  assarauce  Xhwi  I  will  aid  you  by 
every  kind  word  which  opportunity  suggests." 

William  M.  Taylor,  D.D.,  Broadway  Tabernacle,  New  York,  says: 

"  The  >ucccss  of  llie  [ilan  depends  very  nmeii  on  the  character  of  the 
books  selected  ;  but  if  you  are  wise  in  that  particular,  as  I  have  no  doubt, 
you  will  be  benefactors  to  many  struggling  readers  in  whose  experience  a 
new  book  is  one  of  tiie  rarest  treats.  I  am  glad  to  see,  too,  that  you  are 
making  arrangements  witli  the  English  publi^-hers,  so  tliat  in  conferring 
a  boon  upou  readers  here  you  will  not  be  doing  injustice  to  authors  across 
the  sea." 

James  Eells,  D.D.,  Lane  Theological  Seminary,  Cincinnati,  O.,  says: 
"  From  the  reputation  of  your  house  I  am  ready  to  believe  that  you  will 
publish  only  worthy  books.     I  heartily  wi?h  you  success." 

E.  J.  Wolf,  D.D.,  of  the  Lutheran  Seminary,  Gettysburg,  Pa.,  says: 

"  A  more  laudable  project  I  can  hardly  conceive  of.  Vicious  literature 
has  long  had  the  advantage  in  that  it  was  ])ut  within  easy  reach  of  the 
masses.  The  poverty  of  many  who  fain  would  use  the  very  best  books  has 
often  distressed  me.  I  feel  in  my  heart  that  the  noble  enterprise  of  your 
house  is  deserving  of  the  most  liberal  encouragement." 

Bishop  Samuel  Fallows,    Reformed  Episcopalian  Church,   Chicago, 

sajs  : 
"  Your  plan  for  supjilying  the  masses  with  the  best  reading  at  such  a 
nominal  i)rice  cannot  be  too  highly  commended." 

J.  L.  Burrows,  D.D.,  Baptist  Church,  Norfolk,  Va.,  says: 

"  Every  endeavor  to  supersede  poison  by  food  for  the  people  deserves 
encouragement. " 

Rev.  W.  F.  Crafts,  Lee  Avenue  Congregationalist  Church,  Brooklyn, 

says  : 
"In  the  West  they  displace  the  worthless  prairie  grass  by  sowing  blue 
grass.  The  soil  is  too  rich  to  be  inactive.  It  will  have  a  right  or  wrong 
activity.  So  about  the  love  of  readinir  in  the  young.  It  is  prime  soil  and 
will  bear  tall  wire  grass  if  we  do  not  give  it  blue  grass.  It  will  have  bad 
reading,  if  the  good,  equally  cheap  and  attractive,  is  not  provided." 


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Analytical  Bible  Concordance,  Revised  Edition. 

Analytical  Concordance  to  the  Bible  on  an  entirely  new  plan. 
Containing  every  word  in  Alphabetical  Order,  arranged  under 
its  Hebrew  or  Greek  original,  with  the  Literal  Meaning  of  Each, 
and  its  Pronunciation.  Exhibiting  about  311,000  Eeferences. 
marking  30,000  various  rea-lings  in  the  New  Testament.  With 
the  latest  information  on  Biblical  Geography  and  Antiquities. 
Designed  for  the  simplest  reader  of  the  English  Bible.  By 
EoBEBT  YoiiNCr,  LL.D.,  author  of  "A  New  Literal  Translation  of 
the  Hebrew  and  Greek  Scriptures,"  etc.,  etc.  Fourth  Revised, 
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4to,  cloth,  $2.00. 

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and  Greek  Tenses.  (7)  A  complete  Greek  and  English  Lexicon  tc 
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to  the  Bible.     Royal  Svo,  cloth,  400  pp.,  $1.75. 

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Commentary  on  Mark. 

A  Critical,  Exegetical  and  Homiletical  Treatment  of  the  S.  S. 
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CoNANT,  D.  D.,  member  of  the  Old  Testament  Revision  Com- 
mittee, and  Translator  for  the  American  Bible  Union  Edition  of 
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C,  Conant,  the  late  wife  of  Dr.  T.  J.Conant.  It  is  a  complete 
history  of  Bible  Revision  from  the  Wickliife  Bible  down  to  the 
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Eastern  Proverbs  and  Emblems. 

Illustrated  Old  Truths— selected  from  over  1,000  volumes,  some 
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Date  of  Issue. — Volume  I,  issued  February  28th;  Volume  II, 
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Philip  Schaff,  D.D  ,  th'.  Eminent  Commentator  and  the  President  of  (he  American 
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age  on  the  Psalter  is  '  The  Treasury  of  David,'  by  Charles  H  Spurgeon.  It  is  full 
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Van  Daren's  Commentary. 

A  Suggestive  Commentary  on  Luke,  with  Critical  and  Homiletical 
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3.  E-isays.     Lord  Macaulay 15 

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37.  Thoughts  of  M.  Aurelius  Antoninus 15 

38.  Salon  of  Ma  lam  Necker.    Part  II 15 

39.  TlieH^rmits.    C'aarles Kingsley 15 

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48-49.  Dickens' Christmas  Books.    Octavo.    Illustrated 50 

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59.  The  Nutritive  Cure.    Dr.  Robert  Walter.    Octavo 15 

60.  Sartor  Resartus.    Thomas  Carlyle  25 

61-62.  Lothair.    Lord  Beaconsfleld.    Octavo ]  50 

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65-66.  The  Popular  History  of  English  Bible  Translation.    By  H.  P.  Conant. 

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67.  Ingersoll  Answered.    By  Joseph  Parker,  D.D.    Octavo 15 

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70.  Job's  Comforter.     A  Religious  Satire.    By  Joseph  Parker,  D.D.,  12mo 10 

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